


So much more.

by elisa_anya



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, High School Student Castiel, High School Student Dean, Homophobia, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-02-28 21:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 115,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_anya/pseuds/elisa_anya
Summary: Both of them think each other's lives are nice and easy, but both Dean and Cas have secrets to keep, feelings to bottle up. Dean has strong feelings for Cas, a brother to raise, a youth to put on hold to take on the role of his mostly absent father. Cas has convinced himself he is alone because it's better that way and he's a slave to his older brother's wishes and demands. When they partner up for a school assignment, they will discover there is so much more to the other one than they would have suspected, and they might turn out to be just what each other needed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a one-shot but I think I'm going to do a short fic instead.  
> Hope you enjoy it, guys.

Dean had a crush on Castiel Novak. What was there not to like, really? The guy was fucking gorgeous. He’d always been a noticeable kind of guy, but that year he’d returned from summer vacation looking better than ever. He’d grown a few inches during the holidays, he was as lean as ever but his arms looked more toned, he’d let his hair grow a little wild and apparently decided that brushing it before school was beneath him, so he always looked like he’d just gotten up from bed, except for the fact that he dressed like he was in his late twenties and attending a fancy college instead of Lawrence’s High School.

His attitude only added to the list of reasons why Dean liked Cas; he was different. In a world where that seemed to be something bad and a characteristic everyone tried their best to avoid, Castiel didn’t mind being different and Dean found it refreshing, he liked the honesty with which the young man lived his life and behaved. He was quiet and reserved, but kind and patient with everyone that engaged in a conversation with him (which usually happened when someone asked him for help in some homework, because, you’ve got it right, he’s also smart as fuck, _of course he is_ , Dean thinks, _he’s fucking perfect_ ).

The boy came from a rich family and had numerous siblings, all older than him except for his younger sister Anna. Dean had met some of his brothers, all of which had already left school but didn’t do so without leaving memorable stories behind them, they were legends, especially the ladies’ man Balthazar and the smart-ass prankster Gabriel. Dean knew Lucifer too, who honestly looked a bit too intense and scary. He came to school for parents’ meetings and was known for being cold and putting professors on edge. That one Dean didn’t like too much, but he’d played in the football team with Balthazar before Castiel’s older brother graduated and he really liked him. Especially because he used to force his younger brother to go to parties, where Dean would try his best (and always fail) to engage in conversation with Cas, but the guy always left early or was otherwise surrounded by girls who were trying just as hard as Dean to catch him alone.

Dean didn’t know much about Castiel, but what he knew, he liked. The only thing he knew quite a lot about Cas, was the books he liked: he spendt a lot of time reading and could be seen doing so anywhere and everywhere; during breaks at his desk, in the cafeteria where he usually sat with a group of people who were as quiet as he was, sometimes even as he walked from class to class in the hallways (people always see him coming and respectfully avoid him) and also in the benches during football matches (why he even went to those, Dean had no idea, but he liked to see the boy sitting there anyway), in the school bus… Dean knew most of the books he read, and when he didn’t recognise one he’d write down the titles  on a piece of paper and later look for them in the school library. He liked Castiel’s taste. Some of the stuff he read was a bit sad, but it was usually deep, smart stories, the kind that leaves you staring at the ceiling after you’ve finished reading, wondering how someone can write so beautifully. Dean wondered if Cas did that too.

But Dean never got a chance to ask him because he never really talked to Castiel and had no idea how to catch him alone or ask him out. He didn’t even think he _should_ ask him out because to be honest, he wasn’t sure Cas liked guys. Or girls. Or humans in general because he didn’t seem to be attracted to or interested in anyone and he’d never been seen hooking up with anyone at parties, and though there had been rumours here or there of girls that claimed they made out with him, that was all they ever were, unconfirmed rumours (and Dean quite liked it that way, thank you very much).

One day, it finally happened, Dean finally got his opportunity to be alone with Cas when Professor Rhett grouped them together for an English assignment. Everyone complained, saying it was unfair that the man chose the groups, like they were kids that couldn’t make their own simple decisions, but Dean was frozen in his seat, chewing the insides of his cheeks to supress the wide grin that had formed the moment the professor had said Cas’ name after his own. Dean looked over his shoulder and spotted Castiel sitting in the back of the room. Blue eyes met his and he was speechless for a moment. He got the courage to smile shyly at him and nod dumbly before turning around feeling like an idiot when Cas showed no response at all.

 _Oh, shit, what if he doesn’t like me?_ he thought all of a sudden. He’d never considered that option. _No, don’t be ridiculous, why would he dislike you? We’ve never done anything wrong to the guy._

Which was true. Dean never had so much as offended Castiel, or anyone for that matter. He was thankful his high school was considerably free of bullies; normally, if this were a cliché Dean was dealing with, he and his football teammates would be the bullies in the school, the popular kids that misbehaved and thought they were better than anyone, but Dean got lucky and actually most of his teammates were pretty decent people. There were a couple of assholes here and there, but since they weren’t the majority, the good guys and Dean himself kept them at bay and from doing anything stupid or cruel if they could avoid it. Dean liked to think his mom would be proud of how he led the football team, how he tried to be honest and kind with everyone.

 _Let’s not think about mom,_ he thought a little bitterly. That’s always a sensitive subject, even after all these years.

The bell rang and professor Rhett dismissed them. Dean hurried to the door, his backpack already hanging from his shoulder, and waited for Cas to leave. He moved slowly, without hurry, and ever graciously. The boy looked surprised, almost as if he’d forgotten other humans attended the school, when Dean blocked his way out the door and cleared his throat.

“So, hey, Cas, yeah, we’re partners then,” he said and then wished he could kick himself for sounding so dumb.

“Yes, we are,” Cas stated in a very matter-of-fact manner. Dean was into it, even though Cas sounded a little full of himself when he did that, but he’d learned that was just the way the boy talked and never took it personally. Blue eyes stared right into his patiently.

“I, hmm, thought maybe we should get together and discuss some, err, ideas…”

“Absolutely. I can go over your house any day after school.”

“My- my house?” Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously… It’s not that he was embarrassed of his living situation or anything but… Okay, yes, he was _kind of_ embarrassed. He lived in a really small house, with his brother Sam and his father John, who was actually gone for the most part, travelling for work all over the country. Dean kept the house as tidy as possible, and Sam was a good kid, never messed it up too much, but there were repairs he didn’t know how to do and he didn’t have the money to call someone to do them, and John never got to do them himself when he was around, so the house might not be in great shape to receive someone Dean wanted to impress, like Castiel. “I thought- I thought maybe we could go to yours.”

Castiel pursed his lips for a moment, then shook his head. “We can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?” Dean asked before he could stop himself.

Cas looked a little uncomfortable for a moment, holding his book closer to his chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Dean added quickly, blushing slightly.

“No, it’s alright, Dean,” he said, offering a small smile. Dean almost melted on the spot. “My brother- Lucifer- he, err, doesn’t like visits very much.”

“Oh..”

Dean had forgotten about him for a moment. Yeah, better not be under the same roof with that guy if he could avoid it.

“So, is your house an agreeable meeting place?” Cas asked.

Dean sighed. “Sure.”

“If you don’t wish to have me over, we could meet somewhere else, Dean.”

“No, no, no, it’s not that, not that at all,” Dean said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. _Abort_ , he thought. _Abort, abort, you’re making a fool of yourself. End the conversation._ “My house is cool, it’s cool.”

“Alright, then,” Cas agreed, nodding in agreement as he eyed Dean with a little curiosity. Dean blushed, feeling like an idiot. He wanted to smack himself, since when did he lose his cool so easily? He didn’t have this problem with girls. “So, your address, please?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, sorry. It’s 278 East 15th Street. Small white house, green windows and door…”

“Can I come over this afternoon after school?”

Dean’s heart sunk; there was a ton of dishes he hadn’t washed last night, and his room was a mess. But a part of him was dying to say yes, his brain could not process the word ‘no’.

“Sure,” he said and instantly hated himself for it.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Alright.”

Dean smiled and nodded a couple of times while Cas just observed him, tilting his head as he studied Dean.

“Dean…”

 _Oh, God,_ Dean thought, _I love the way he says my name._

“Yes?”

“Could you move away from the door, please?”

Dean jumped back and out of Cas’ way. “Oh, yes, sorry about that.”

“Not to worry. I’ll see you later.”

Cas pushed passed him and walked away, opening the book as he went. Dean stared after him, feeling as if he’d both won a battle and at the same time had many more to come before he could leave an impression on Castiel. He hadn’t thought this through at all. What was he thinking, inviting him over to his house? Dean knew what Castiel’s house looked it and it was _way_ nicer than his, not to mention bigger. And the state he’d left his room in… He _had_ to go come quickly and at least put his dirty clothes under his bed…

But he’d finally done it. He’d finally found a way to catch Cas alone, in his own house of all places, where no one could bother them. He had the blue-eyed boy right where he wanted him.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas was a loner by choice (not that he had many choices, but okay, whatever). He liked his alone time a little too much, but he just couldn’t help it. When you belong to a large family, you crave for moments of silence and privacy, _especially_ if you have very outgoing and noisy siblings, like Anna and Gabriel were, quite often to be honest. He liked spending time with his siblings (or at least most of them), but he also loved burying his nose in his father’s books. The library in their house provided Castiel with a very rich source of novels, and he liked to think he could make some kind of connection with his deceased father through them, like he could get to know the man he barely remembered through them. Cas would always pick books that give him some kind of evidence that his father had in fact once existed; books with an almost torn page, worn covers or wrinkled spines, the ones that had folded corners in some pages or even his father’s name written in the first page. His father’s books and his money were the last things that were left from him, and the second thing didn’t really matter too much to Cas. Sure, people with money always said that, but he’d give anything to have either of his parents back with him…

Making friends had always been a complicated matter for him. Castiel wasn’t at all unpleasant, but he was peculiar, to say the least, and he couldn’t help this either. His two eldest brothers, Michael and Lucifer, had raised him quite strictly and the boy had always stood up from the crowd as the weird kid who had intimidating older brothers instead of parents who contributed to baking sales and stuff like that. Cas had a very quiet kind of personality and was the type of kid teachers loved, those that sat in the back and raised their hands to give the right answer when they asked something but then remained quiet for the entire rest of the class. He liked to observe people more than he liked talking to them, he didn’t feel he necessarily had a lot to say, and kids usually felt a little uncomfortable around him. This led to a lack of friends when he was a kid, which developed into a rather lonely adolescence. Everyone had made childhood friends and had kept them for the most part as they all got older and entered the golden high school era. Everyone but him, so now he was kind of in good terms with everyone but he couldn’t really call any of his classmates a proper friend. Not that he cared, truth be told. What was the point in trying to befriend people who so obviously didn’t understand you and probably secretly made fun of you or judge you for being weird?

His brothers had tried to help him make friends. When Balthazar was still at school, he would drag him to parties all the time. Cas sat on some couch on some guy’s house and watched the people get drunk, dance and make fools of themselves. He watched people laugh, talk to each other, kiss, hold hands, hug friends. He wondered what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t just be a part of them, laugh with them and talk to them. Girls occasionally joined him and talked to him, but they never seemed really interested in what he had to say; they all seem to have this idea of how he should behave, what he should say and do, and he usually ended up disappointing them when he didn’t make a move on them. Why did he have to be so weird? He felt it was both a blessing and a curse; _you’re special_ , Michael would tell him when he was younger, _you don’t really want to be like everyone else, Cas, trust me. Dad would be proud of you, embrace who you are_. Gabriel would always invite him to hang out with his friends, which were really nice, but still, there was always a connection missing; they were _Gabriel’s_ friends, not his, and would probably not invite him if his older brother wasn’t there with them.

Only once had Castiel made a friend he had felt close to, in his summer internship in a publishing agency. Tom had been kind and interesting, a book worm like himself. They sat in silence and it was comfortable and natural. Cas had always suspected he felt attracted to guys, but Tom made any doubt go away. He had been such a fool to bring him over to his house. Lucifer beat the shit out of him when he found them making out in their bedroom. The following day, Castiel quit the internship; he was so beat up, he didn’t dare show his bruised face in the office. Of course, he never saw Tom again. So much for making connections…

Professor Rhett called his name right after Dean’s and Cas nodded silently to himself once. Dean wasn’t too bad, but he’d probably have to do most of the work because, honestly, he didn’t expect Dean to do much of the reading required for the assignment. He was a kind guy, his cheerful personality made him look handsome all the time and all the working out for the football team had built him up nicely, but that was all Dean was, a pretty face, a simple, predictable guy, like most people at school.

He looked up just in time to see Dean turn around to look at him from his desk in the front of the class. A tentative smile formed in his lips and then he nodded once before quickly turning back around.

 _Polite as always, that Winchester_ , Cas thought. He knew Dean probably wished he’d been paired with one of his friends… Which basically meant almost anyone in the class _but_ Castiel. Dean was that popular kind of guy, loved by his friends and desired by all girls, a high school cliché.

The bell rang and his classmates almost ran out the door in a hurry, talking to each other, complaining under their breaths about the professor not letting them choose their own partners. Cas put all his stuff in his backpack except for the novel he was currently reading, and was about to open it when he found himself face to face with Dean, who was blocking the door.

“So, hey, Cas, yeah, we’re partners then,” Dean said, shifting in place a couple of times.

“Yes, we are,” Cas answered, feeling a little nervous with the sudden interaction. His conversational skills sucked. He waited for Dean to continue, hoping the other would say something else, because he really didn’t know how to talk to someone like Dean.

“I, hmm, thought maybe we should get together and discuss some, err, ideas…”

Cas was internally very relieved; he was a weirdo, but thankfully he got paired with someone who didn’t quite seem to notice or care. In fact, Dean looked a little weird himself, like he was supressing a smile, and he was moving a lot.

“Absolutely,” Cas answered. The faster they finished the assignment, the better. “I can go over your house any day after school.”

“My- my house?” Dean asked him nervously, and he could swear the other’s face fell for a moment. “I thought- I thought maybe we could go to yours.”

A quick flashback of Lucifer beating the crap out of him in his bedroom and warning him to _never_ bring another boy back to their house flashed before Castiel’s eyes. Even if it was just for homework, he didn’t think he’d dare bringing Dean home. What if Lucifer got the wrong impression and beat him again? He didn’t want to go through that again, and certainly didn’t want Dean to witness something like that either.

“We can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?” Dean asked, leaning a little closer with curiosity.

Cas hesitated; he wasn’t a very good liar, which usually made him speak truths that made people uncomfortable, but he wasn’t about to tell Dean, an almost complete stranger, that his brother might beat him up in front of his guest for being gay.

Dean must have read something in his expression, because he quickly added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” He looked mortified, like he’d just realised he’d done something inappropriate. And was he… _blushing_? _Why_?

“No, it’s alright, Dean,” Castiel assured him, offering Dean a small smile. “My brother- Lucifer- he, err, doesn’t like visits very much.”

 _Not when it’s guys_ , Cas thought.

“Oh…”

Cas stared back at him for a moment, waiting for Dean to say something else, but Dean just stared back at him. He had the strange feeling Dean was acting a little weird; he’d seen the young Winchester interact with just about everyone in the school and he never seemed this lost for words. Did Cas really make him this uncomfortable? He was suddenly feeling that familiar pang of unease that he got whenever he realised just how out of place he always felt at school.

“So, is your house an agreeable meeting place?” he asked when Dean didn’t say anything.

Dean sighed. “Sure.”

He couldn’t help but read that sigh as a sign Dean didn’t want to invite him over. Had Castiel been impolite inviting himself over to his house? Shit, he had been, hadn’t he? Dean probably didn’t feel comfortable enough around him to invite him to his house.

“If you don’t wish to have me over, we could meet somewhere else, Dean.”

“No, no, no, it’s not that, not that at all,” Dean said, almost stumbling over his own words, moving his hands on the air nervously. Cas looked at him with curiosity _._ “My house is cool, it’s cool.”

“Alright, then,” Cas agreed, nodding once. He waited for Dean to continue but the boy only blushed under his gaze. Why was he doing that so much? He didn’t normally cause people to blush, they usually just discreetly ended their conversation fast and excused themselves to leave as soon as possible. “So, your address, please?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, sorry. It’s 278 East 15th Street. Small white house, green windows and door…”

“Can I come over this afternoon after school?”

Cas was already thinking they needed an action plan. He didn’t mind doing most of the readings if they finished it fast, so he could get this over with as soon as possible. He would tell Dean what to do and what to read, he’d give the boy the proper deadlines to be efficient, and they wouldn’t even need to get together to do the assignment if they could help it afterwards. If everything went according to the plan he was forming in his head, they could keep social interactions to a minimum. Dean would have his precious time to train with the team and hang out with his friends, and Cas would go back home to his books.

“Sure,” Dean said.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“Alright.”

Cas watched Dean smile radiantly and nod a couple of times. He didn’t realise he was doing that thing where he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little as he studied people when they did things he couldn’t quite comprehend. He looked handsome, he had to give him that. He waited for Dean to move away from the door, but he never did, just stared right back at Cas with a smile.

“Dean…”

“Yes?”

“Could you move away from the door, please?”

 “Oh, yes, sorry about that,” Dean laughed nervously and jumped backwards.

“Not to worry. I’ll see you later.”

The moment he was out the door, Castiel opened his novel and started reading, or trying to. It was like a safety blanket, like a place to go to when he needed to calm down, and he really needed to gather his thoughts and prepare for a lot of social interaction that afternoon. If only Cas could buy social skills…


	3. Chapter 3

The moment the bell rang announcing the sweet end of that long school day, Dean is running out the door, balancing on the tip of his toes as he gracefully avoids clashing into people in the hallway, making a quit exit towards the parking lot where his precious Baby is waiting for him. He’d found his younger brother Sam earlier in between classes and had asked him to please hurry up after class because he needed to get home as fast as possible. Apparently, the younger boy hadn’t understood just _how urgent_ the situation was (because it _was_ urgent, Dean wasn’t exaggerating and freaking out for nothing at all, the house _had to_ be cleaned up before Castiel’s arrival, Dean didn’t want to make a bad first impression) because Dean watched him walked out the door while casually talking to a friend.

“Sam!” he yelled urgently and signaled his brother to hurry with a wave of his hand. His brother frowned at him, pursed his lips and hurried along.

“I take longer than 5 minutes!” Sam rolled his eyes as Dean got into the car.

“5 _precious_ minutes, Sammy,” Dean scolded, pretending to be truly offended, as he turned the keys and the familiar roar of Baby’s engine filled his ears.

“What’s gotten into you today? What’s the hurry?”

“A friend- I mean, a classmate is coming over and I forgot to do the dishes last night,” he explained, realizing how stupid he sounded all of a sudden. Sam was looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You yelled at me because of dirty dishes?”

“And my room is really messy too,” Dean added, but he didn’t think he was making a very good case in his favour.

Sam observed him for another minute, then smirked and asked, “is it a girl you like?”

Dean snorts. “No.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, okay, maybe try being a little more convincing, Dean.”

He tries to think of a comeback to that, but he’s too worried about beating Cas to their house to be able to think of anything smart to reply. They’re home in just a couple of minutes, Dean drives so fast they’re probably in the edge of illegal, but seriously criminal would be to receive someone like Cas with the house in terrible conditions and to ruin his miraculous chance at befriending the boy. In his way to the kitchen, he quickly puts the living room in order; he throws their jackets and shoes that can usually be found laying around back in the small closet by the door where they theoretically belong (theoretically being a key word here), grabs some of the books he’d left last night in the coffee table after making homework and shoves them inside his backpack, and finally double checks there are no empty bottles of beer laying around (John had a habit of forgetting them all around the house whenever he was over) or no crumbs of pie in the (ugly) couch. He then takes a look around the kitchen; the sink is full of dirty dishes and the surface of the oven is splattered with tomato sauce. There is not one chair around their small dinning table that looks remotely like the other, the fridge is so old it’s been threatening to die any moment now and the curtains are really just very distasteful and outdated, but John refused to replace anything that was ever touched by Dean’s mom.

“I can do the dishes if you want. You cooked anyway,” Sam offered as he came to stand next to his brother. If the boy’s being honest with himself, he should have probably done them himself yesterday in the first place. Dean cooked almost every day and made sure he always had lunch ready for school too, and then usually also took care of the dishes and cleaned their clothes. His older brother barely ever asked for help, all he ever asked for in return was that Sam did his homework and studied for his exams, which he did gladly.

Dean takes him up of the offer right away because Castiel would arrive any minute now and there’s no time to lose. “That’d be great, thanks, Sammy,” he pats his brother’s back once and then runs to his room.

The room was actually almost at its best, considering it _never_ really looked too good in the first place, however tidy he tried to keep it; the walls were begging for a new layer of paint, there were weird black stains near the ceiling (Dean suspected there might be a leak in the ceiling, the stains had appeared after a very rainy weekend) and his desk was kind of dangerously old and full of scratches. There’s nothing he can do about those things, though; they don’t have the money to upgrade the house or the furniture, and whatever money he makes occasionally working in Bobby’s mechanic shop he saves it for Sammy’s college fund. His wardrobe is tiny and barely manages to hold all of his clothes inside; in fact, some of them threaten to fall out at any moment.

He quickly picks up the old jeans and shirt he left on the floor the night before and throws them inside the closet, then closes the door to make sure to put a stop to the avalanche of clothes that it’s forming inside. He puts the shirt he uses to sleep under his pillow and makes the bed in the blink of an eye. He looks around the shelves searching for anything embarrassing he might need to hide; he’s got a couple of books but not too many (why buy them when he can get them for free in the library?), there a couple of football trophies, a stack of CDs and cassettes of his favorite bands and singers, and box with pictures of his mom. He knows there are porno mags under his bed, but he doubts Cas will ever sneak a peak there, so that should be okay. All in all, Dean doesn’t really _have_ that much stuff, so there’s not much to be embarrassed about either.

 _Ah, that’s the first time not having money plays in my favor, I guess,_ he thinks and huffs a laugh, because it’s either that or sinking in a self-pity hole, and there’s just no time for that right now.

He gives the weird stains in the ceiling another dirty look, he kind of hates them, makes his room look like a dump. It’s mold, most likely, which isn’t great. He’d tried cleaning them before, googled how to do it, bought the stiff-bristle brush he needed and the bleach, and spent a good couple of hours decontaminating his room, but they always returned with the next rain and eventually he’d gotten tired of cleaning them time after time, so he’d just decided to sleep in John’s room while the man was away. There isn’t much he can do about them, or about his room, or about his house as a whole. He’s had friends over before, even girls he’s slept with (they didn’t seem to mind the mold, you see, they were too busy at the time to notice it), and he never really cared too much what the house looked like, but Cas was different. He really _liked_ Cas, and damn, he knew what the boy’s house looked like; he’d actually _been_ to his house once, when Balthazar threw an epic party that _one_ time his two eldest brothers had gone out of town at the same time (because, of course, no parties were ever made in the presence of Lucifer and Michael, everyone knew that). Cas’ house was massive and beautiful two-storey building surrounded by a well-kept garden, it had a gigantic library and a dinning room bigger than Dean’s entire kitchen. Every room was completely mold-free, _obviously_ , and had fancy furniture. So, basically, the _opposite_ of Dean’s.

 _He’s not gonna care_ , Dean tells himself, because that’s what he badly wants to believe. _He doesn’t care about material things… hopefully… Because if he does, I’m screwed, yeap._

There’s a knock on the door and the young Winchester nearly jumps off his skin. He hurries back to the living room and finds Sam by the door, looking over his shoulder to lock eyes with Dean for a moment as he smirks like he’s caught him doing something embarrassing. When he opens the door to reveal the dark-haired boy waiting in the other side, his expression turns to one of confusion.

“You’re-” _a boy_ , he thinks, really taken aback by the whole situation. Dean knows _exactly_ what he’s thinking, what realization is hitting him, and blushes furiously. Sam just stares at Castiel, frowning as he thinks very quickly, mouth slightly agape.

Castiel’s eyes go backwards and forwards between the two brothers for a moment and he shifts nervously in place, doing that thing he does when he doesn’t know what to say which Dean has learned consists in holding whatever book is in his hands very close to his chest. He wonders if the boy has _actually_ tried reading the book during the short distance from his car to the front door. Cas runs a hand through his hair before offering it to Sam. God, Dean loves it when he does that.

“I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you, I take you’re Dean’s brother.”

Sam shakes his hand and nods once, but doesn’t say anything, then steps aside to let Cas in.

“That’s Sam, my baby brother,” Dean says, then gives Sam a death glare for being rude while Cas looks away and around the living room.

The nickname seems to snap Sam out of whatever trance he’s in. “I’m not a baby,” he snaps and Dean just laughs.

“What you need to be is gone, we’ve homework to do and so do you,” Dean tells him, which is stupid and makes no sense because they usually do homework together in the living room, but Sam gets it, and merely rolls his eyes before he disappears to his bedroom. Dean feels a little guilty dismissing him like that, but he doesn’t think he can handle dealing with Cas with a live audience.

Only when Sammy is out of sight, Dean turns towards Cas with a welcoming smile (a nervous one, but still honest). He can’t believe the boy is _really_ standing in his living room. He actually looks a little out of place there, his fancy clothes don’t match Dean’s old (ugly) couch, and he seems stiff like a rock.

“So, Cas, hmm… Do you want something to drink?” Dean asks, retreating slowly towards the kitchen as if Cas could get lose if Dean went too fast, like his house isn’t tiny and the kitchen and the living room aren’t connected by one big archway. “I’ve got milk, beer. I could make you some coffee…”

“Tea?”

“Which kind?”

Dean mentally smacks himself on the back of the head because _there is no tea in his house_ , so _why_ would he even ask that?

“Green tea,” Cas replies at the same time Dean confesses there’s actually no tea in the house. “Oh. Okay. A glass of water would be fine, then.”

“You sure you don’t want a beer?”

“It’s 3.30 in the afternoon, Dean.”

There’s an awkward silence. Dean feel a little small under Castiel’s gaze.

“Right,” Dean mumbles. No, _of course_ he never has beer in the afternoon, shut up. “Water then. And, hmm, I- I have some pie, or, err, do you like cookies?”

He watches Cas hesitate for a moment as he approaches the table and puts his book and backpack down. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“Water’s just fine,” he says eventually.

“You sure?” Dean asks as he takes the pie out of the fridge because he’s been thinking about it the entire morning and he needs sugar right now to channel his anxiety through food, he really does. Cas follows the dessert with his eyes. “It’s damn good apple pie, Cas.”

“I- it’s fine, I don’t want pie, thank you,” Cas replies, looking away from the dessert quickly like he’s an addict and the pie’s actually heroin he’s trying to run away from.

Dean laughs and cuts to pieces of pie, grabs two forks, puts water on a glass and sets it all in the table. He takes a sit right across from Cas and offers the fork to Cas.

“Are you not allowed to have pie or something?” Dean teases him. Slowly, he starts feeling like himself. Trust pie to brighten his day.

“My brothers have always been strict about desserts. I guess that’s exactly why Gabriel opened a candy store, just to mess with Lucifer,” Cas says, speaking mostly to himself, but Dean listens carefully to everything he says. The young man takes the fork he’s offering and digs into the pie. He takes a big chunk into his mouth and hums with satisfaction. The corners of his lips curve up as he chews slowly.

“Told you, it’s good pie,” Dean smiles before he’s digging into it himself.

Cas nods in agreement, looking somewhat amused, and the expression in his face if priceless, Dean thinks. It’s the first time in a long time Dean sees him smile, _properly_ smile, the kind of honest smile that reaches his eyes. He makes a quick mental note to get more pie for Castiel and feels instantly more relaxed; okay, so, yeah, they have _one_ thing in common, they both love pie (and probably every normal human in the world does too, but whatever), Dean can work with that.

“So, I’ve been thinking about the assignment,” Cas said, getting down to business, his expression turning as serious as ever as he got a notebook out of his backpack, “and I took the liberty of making reading schedule plan. If we follow these, we can get together next month, share notes and I can finish the story if you want, I don’t mind.”

Dean leans over the table to take a look at the notebook; Castiel has made some kind of calendar marking how many pages per day each should read to complete all the readings and get the assignment done with a week to spare, and at the end of the month there’s a day marked with the word ‘meeting’. That’s the only meeting scheduled for the entire month. Dean notices Castiel has scheduled _way_ more pages per day for himself.

“Wait, why do you have to read more than me?” Dean asks, turning the notebook around to take a closer look like the numbers are going to change if he holds the paper closer to his eyes.

“Well, I know you’re busier than me, what with football practise, and I read more than you, so…” Cas shrugs.

“How do you know you read more than me?”

“I’ve never _seen_ you with a book.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t read, Cas.”

Dean’s tone sounds a little more annoyed than he’d meant to give away, and Cas blushes for a moment, then nods.

“I apologize. I just- I was trying to help.”

It’s Dean’s turn to blush. “No, yeah, I know, I just-”

 _I want to see you,_ he thinks. _More than once a month._ This stupid schedule, which Dean has to admit was really well thought of, completely ruins his plans of getting alone time with the other boy.

“I thought maybe we could get together, like- like a couple of times a week? If that’s okay with you? We can do the readings together, you know? Kind of for moral support, to keep an eye on each other so we don’t get distracted or something like that… And then we tell each other what we read and discuss it and prepare notes, so we can do the story at the end… If that’s okay with you.”

Dean spoke so fast he’s not sure Castiel got all of it. He feels like he’s burning up and his hands are sweaty, but he is proud of himself, he did it, he invited Cas over in a daily basis! Cas looked a little constipated while considered his words and Dean wonders if maybe he’s not pushing too much.

“I’m sure your parents won’t appreciate having me around all the time—”

Dean scoffs. “If you see them, let me know,” he replies sarcastically, gaining a confused look from the other boy, so Dean explains, “my mum passed away. My dad… he’s not around much, he travels a lot for work. It’s Sammy and me most of the time.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” Dean says before he can stop himself. He loves his dad, he does, at some level, but it’s easier to love John Winchester when he’s not around, to be honest. They get along better then their interactions are reduced to 15 minutes phone calls. Dean doesn’t even care taking up the burden of racing Sam mostly on his own, he knows he’ll do a better job than John did with himself, so he falls into the role of big brother/occasional parent gladly.

Cas tilts his head and studies Dean for a moment, then his eyes fall back on his notebook, his little perfect schedule. Dean’s gut twists; oh, God, what if Castiel doesn’t want to meet up with him but he’s too polite to say it? Could he dislike Dean, for some reason? Maybe he feels uncomfortable, sitting in his lame, kind of dirty kitchen with him. Dean has all sorts of ideas about who Cas is, what he likes, what his personality is like, and he feel he knows him, somehow, but perhaps he’s been stupid; just because they read the same books doesn’t mean there’s a connection there. Jesus, Cas doesn’t even _know_ they read he same books.

“I’m sorry,” he finally blurts out. “I’m sorry, Cas. You- you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I get it, you don’t really know me and my house- my house’s kind of a mess, I know. I just- I thought it’d be cool, you know? We could get to know each other a little bit, hang out. But it’s cool, yeah, it’s cool, let’s just do your schedule thing.”

 _Oh my God, shut up!_ he yells at his brain.

Dean mentally punches his brain and runs a hand through his hair, avoiding those blue eyes that he can _actually feel_ looking at him. There’s a moment of silence because he’s got no idea what else to say and Cas is usually quiet, and that’s about one of the things Dean’s sure about him.

“Why do you call me Cas?” the other boy asks him, taking Dean by surprise.

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just short for Cas.”

Cas laughs once. It’s short but honest and makes his shoulders actually move and all. “Obviously,” he says, and he’s not laughing at Dean but at the situation, so he can’t help but laugh too. Then Cas is looking at him with a small shy smile and kind eyes. It’s a rarity, that expression in his face, but he’s seen it before and it’s exactly why he’s crushing so hard on him. “I don’t mind you calling me Cas, it’s just- no one’s ever given me a nickname before… And I don’t think your house is a mess, by the way. It’s… cozy.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be nice, it _is_ a mess. And this is the fancier you’ll see it, I actually _cleaned_ it, so… Come on, man, I know what your house looks like.”

“Yes, but your house feels like a home. Mine doesn’t.”

The honest comments leaves Dean speechless for a moment. Cas looks taken aback by his own honesty for a moment and settles back on his chair, looking away with shame, like he’s said too much, said something he wasn’t supposed to, and his eyes look sad. Dean hates it and it occurs to him that maybe his life isn’t as fabulous as he’d imagined it.

“Well, we _do_ have pie here, that’s a point in our favour,” Dean says to lighten up the mood, and it _kind of_ works; Cas huffs a laugh, nods and takes another bite of pie.

“You’re right there, Dean.”

Dean smiles that sweet smile of his, that one that he gives people when he wants to cheer them up. Cas looks at him for a moment, and the way he’s glaring at him is so intense, the young Winchester almost looks away, but then Castiel smiles back.

“I’ll take you up on that offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“Huh?”

“About meeting here, to study together.”

“Really?” Dean grins and he realises he looks way happier than he should give away; this is a _school_ matter, after all, it’s not supposed to make him this excited.

“Yes, really. Come on, let’s make a new schedule.”

Castiel rips the page with the schedule he made and tosses it inside his backpack, then gets a pen out and makes five columns. He has Dean write down his football practise schedule and the days he’s got to work on Bobby’s shop. In the end, they decide to meet twice a week (Wednesdays and Fridays), maybe three if they don’t get enough done in their sessions, and Dean tries very hard not to grin because he doesn’t want to come across like some weirdo. Cas assigns Dean more readings so they both have equals amounts of works to do and finally they bargain which subjects each of them prefer to read.

“Okay, now all that’s left is getting down to do the readings,” Dean says, faking excitement.

“The subjects isn’t my favourites either,” Cas admits with a nod.

“Good thing we have each other for moral support, huh? And pie,” Dean winks at him and pushes the pie towards him.

Cas laughs and nods. It’s the most Dean has ever seen him smile and laugh in a short period of time, and he feels dumbly proud of it. He feels good, _really_ good, the kind of good that makes you want to listen to your favorite songs and jump around the living room. He can’t believe how well things are going, considering he’s got no idea what he’s doing or how to proceed, and he’s definitely not thinking how dangerous this is going to be because he can see his future-self _so easy_ falling for Cas, a guy he _barely_ knows and has no idea whether he’s even into guys in the first place. No, it’s better not to think about that, that’s just going to ruin the moment and right now he’s loving the present, loving watching Cas smile as he eats his pie, and _damn_ he really has to like the kid if he’s allowing Novak to eat his precious apple pie.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The assignment wasn’t hard but it was going to require _a lot_ of reading, that was the catch. Professor Rhett's idea wasn’t actually a bad one: they were supposed to do research on a historic era that he assigned per group, and then each group had to make a historically accurate story based of their readings. Cas realised if he planned it carefully and gave himself most of the work (because, really, Dean Winchester doing all that reading? He’d better give himself most of the reading and just get it over with), they could finish their homework in a month without really needing to see each other until the moment of actually sitting down and writing the story, which could be about anything, really, as long as it was settled in the Victorian times (that’s the subject the pair was stuck with). He wrote the whole schedule down and smiled, pleased with himself.

When school was over, he dragged his feet slowly out of the school and towards his car. His sister Anna was already waiting for him, leaning against the passenger’s door. In silence he drove her home, announced he needed to see a classmate about a school assignment and took off again to Dean’s house. Cas was going slowly, _stalling_ , really. He was feeling slightly anxious, already counting down the minutes until he could return home and lock himself in the privacy of his bedroom. Social gatherings weren’t his thing and though the was usually more comfortable in one on one conversations, he didn’t like the idea of going to someone else’s home. It made him feel uncomfortable, and if he was honest with himself, a little jealous; he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look at other kids with their parents and wondered what that was like, because he appreciated everything his older brothers had done for him, he really did, but they weren’t parents, not even close. He wondered what it was like to have a father, to have a mother, and he didn’t enjoy seeing other people have right in front of his face that which he wanted the most and could never have. He especially hated it when people asked about his parents and the look of pity in their faces when he told them they were dead.

 _Get in, explain the schedule and get out_ , he told himself as he sat inside his car outside Dean’s house. _You’ll be back home in no time at all._

He took one final breath to try and put his thoughts in order, tame his social anxiety, then got out of the car and marched to the front door with his backpack over his shoulder and his father’s trench coat on his hands (aka his safety blanket). He knocked on the door and waited. Just a couple of seconds later, a younger boy with brown hair opened the door. The moment his eyes found Cas, his expression changed from one of (Cas guessed) amusement to one of confusion.

“You’re-” the boy started, but he didn’t finish the sentence, just stared at Cas for a while, mouth slightly agape and a strange frown on concentration marking lines in his forehead.

Cas could see Dean inside the house, staring at him, then at his brother and finally back at him. Novak shifted in place, a little uncomfortable at the way he was being stared at. He wondered quickly if maybe there was something on his face, if his hair was too messy or something, which ended up making feel even more self-conscious than before, so he ran a hand through his hair to pull it backwards and in the right place, just in case; he _really_ should start brushing his hair.

Then, because the boy was still staring at him and hadn’t moved, he extended his hand towards him and introduced himself. “I’m Castiel. Nice to meet you, I take you’re Dean’s brother.”

The youngest Winchester shook his hand and nodded without saying a word, the moved aside a little to allow him in. Cas look a quick glance around the living room; it was a small and a little dark… He liked it. There were several photographs here and there of the Winchester family, which consisted mostly on pictures of Sam and Dean with only a couple that included their parents. There was just one rather worn out couch in the living room which looked comfortable, and Cas could just imagine Dean laying there with his feet up catching TV (something that was, of course, strictly forbidden in the Novak house, Lucifer would chop off whatever feet he found laying over the couch). On the corner of his eye, he caught sight of some very old doodles in the corner of a wall, probably an ancient master piece of a toddler Dean or Sam. There was an archway leading to the kitchen, which wasn’t that much bigger, and Cas found it oddly charming that there was not one single chair that matched the other. That would drive Michael insane, he thought with amusement. All around the house there were marks and evidence that proved people, _real people_ , lived there, unlike his spotless house, which had always felt like a hotel, a temporary residence that didn’t quite belong to him, rather than a home. He liked this better. He felt like he could spill coffee on the couch and Dean would just shrug and turn the cushion over to hide the stain instead of yelling at him, like Lucifer had at Balthazar once (and then he had to paid to get it cleaned, and then no one was allowed to have coffee near the couch again).

“That’s Sam, my baby brother,” Dean said, pulling Cas from his thoughts.

“I’m not a baby,” Sam snaps at his brother, but Dean merely laughs.

“What you need to be is gone, we’ve homework to do and so do you,” Dean commands his brother and Sam rolls his eyes at him, but obeys and disappears down the corridor to the left. The moment the youngest boy is gone, Dean turns around with face him with a welcoming smile. “So, Cas, hmm… Do you want something to drink?” he asks as he backs towards the kitchen. “I’ve got milk, beer. I could make you some coffee…”

Cas follows him into the kitchen, moving slowly and cautiously, feeling quite out of place in the strange house. “Tea?”

“Which kind?”

“Green tea,” Cas replies at the same time Dean says he’s got no tea at all. “Oh. Okay. A glass of water would be fine, then.”

“You sure you don’t want a beer?”

Cas internally raises an eyebrow but stops himself from actually making a face. Does Dean _actually_ drink beer during the afternoon? And he’s not a goody goody (yes, he is) but, really, having beer this early should be a no-no for anyone.

“It’s 3.30 in the afternoon, Dean.”

There’s a small silence during which they look at each other, and Cas wonders if perhaps he’s sounded too judgemental, but then Dean just goes on speaking. “Right… Water then. And, hmm, I- I have some pie, or, err, do you like cookies?”

 _Pie?_ Cas thinks, mentally sighing in the back of his mind as he approaches the table and sets his stuff down. He’s got a sweet tooth but he barely ever gets to satisfy his secret cravings. Lucifer and Michael don’t usually buy them sweets or desserts, and Cas hasn’t got money of his own most of the time unless they give him money if he needs it for school or another specific reason, so, yeah, no sweets for the Novaks.

He wants to say yes but he’s afraid he’ll end up eating all of Dean’s pie, or that he’ll eat so fast Dean’s going to think they starve him at home.

“Water’s just fine,” he replies eventually.

“You sure?” Dean asks as he takes the pie out of the fridge. When it’s out, Cas can’t help but giving it a good look; it looks _great_. “It’s damn good apple pie, Cas.”

“I- it’s fine, I don’t want pie, thank you,” Cas replies and looks away because, _Jesus_ , his mouth is watering just by looking at it, but he needs to focus on his homework anyway. It would be very unpolite to eat Dean’s pie and get out of the house a minute later.

He hears Dean laugh and a moment after the taller young man is sitting down on the table, placing a glass of water in front of him and two plates with pie. He pushes one towards him as he sits right in front of him.

Dean offers him a fork and smirks softly as he asks, “are you not allowed to have pie or something?”

“My brothers have always been strict about desserts. I guess that’s exactly why Gabriel opened a candy store, just to mess with Lucifer,” Cas says, thinking the last bit out loud. Yes, Gabriel really enjoys pissing his older brother off, and then it’s the younger ones who have to deal with Lucifer’s bad mood.

He digs his fork inside his pie a little too enthusiastically and then takes a big bite. A soft moan of pleasure leaves his mouth the moment he tastes the pie because _damn_ , it’s a very good pie and he hadn’t had pie in a long time and he’s remembering exactly why he has a sweet tooth. He thinks his older brothers are probably right keeping him away from it, he could gladly die of a pie overdose, its’ just that good.

“Told you, it’s good pie,” Dean smiles before he’s digging into it himself. He looks relaxed for the first time since they’ve started interacting, which allows Cas to let go some of his own anxiety as well. He can’t understand why Dean seems to be so nervous around him, but it puts him on edge, makes him want to leave and be alone, back in his room, with no one to judge him or make him feel guilty for being weird.

Castiel nods in agreement to Dean’s statement and smiles as he chews. That pie goes all the way to his heart and the sugar makes him feel lighter and cheerful. Then he remembers he’s not here to have Dean’s pie, and he’d better stop wasting his partner’s time too.

“So, I’ve been thinking about the assignment,” Cas tells Dean as he grabs the notebook with the readings schedule from his backpack, “and I took the liberty of making a reading schedule plan. If we follow these, we can get together next month, share notes and I can finish the story if you want, I don’t mind.”

Dean leans over the table to take a look at the notebook, his eyes flashing quickly over the piece of paper and the dates, the numbers, until he’s frowning slightly, turning the book fully around so it’s in front of him, and asks, “wait, why do you have to read more than me?”

“Well, I know you’re busier than me, what with football practise, and I read more than you, so…” Cas shrugs. He really doesn’t mind doing more readings than Dean if it means they get the work done faster and Dean agrees to it.

“How do you know you read more than me?”

“I’ve never _seen_ you with a book.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t read, Cas.”

There’s definitely an edge on annoyance in Dean’s tone and his eyes aren’t cheerful and careless anymore either. Cas blushes, wondering if perhaps he’s somehow insulted or offended Dean. He didn’t mean to belittle him, as far as he knows Dean’s grades are good and he’s not a bad student at all, but he wouldn’t exactly classify him as an _intellectual_. He’s definitely more of a physical guy. I mean, _look at him_ , for God’s sake, he’s barely 18 and he’s already gorgeous. Not that Cas has ever noticed, of course not.

Cas nods dumbly, feeling uncomfortable and little in his chair, before he says, “I apologize. I just- I was trying to help.”

It’s Dean’s turn to blush. “No, yeah, I know, I just-” Dean takes a deep breath, then continues speaking so fast, Cas actually sits on the edge of his chair and pays a lot of attention to understand it all. “I thought maybe we could get together, like- like a couple of times a week? If that’s okay with you? We can do the readings together, you know? Kind of for moral support, to keep an eye on each other so we don’t get distracted or something like that… And then we tell each other what we read and discuss it and prepare notes, so we can do the summary at the end… If that’s okay with you.”

 _Moral support for reading?_ Cas repeats in his head. What did that even mean? Would they just sit next to each other and read? Did he not trust Castiel to do his part of the reading? Perhaps Dean disagreed with the schedule and was too kind or too shy to say anything about it. But did he really mean it? Did he really want Cas to come over several times a week? Did _he_ want to come here several times a week? What about

 “I’m sure your parents won’t appreciate having me around all the time—”

Dean scoffs. “If you see them, let me know,” he in a sarcastic tone, and Cas frowns because he doesn’t understand what he’s talking about. Dean sees the look of confusion in his face and continues, “my mum passed away. My dad… he’s not around much, he travels a lot for work. It’s Sammy and me most of the time.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not,” Dean says quietly and rather abruptly, then looks away blushing softly and looking a bit uncomfortable. The resentment in his voice is obvious.

Cas tilts his head as he looks at Dean. He’s just realising how little he really knows him, if at all. He’d thought for a long time he could guess what Dean Winchester was like, but he’d been wrong and he could see that now. Sitting on his kitchen table, learning some small (but very important) details about his life, he realises Dean’s not the cliché Castiel had imagined him to be in his head. If anything, Dean looks kind of… lonely. He would have never guessed that from the handsome, star football player everyone liked at school. But Dean is lonely in a different way than Cas; he’s surrounded by people to fill the gaps that really matter, but oh does Cas know they can never be filled. And, wow, he had to give it to Dean, he’d done a good job hiding this from people. If he hadn’t just made that comment, Cas would had never guessed there was anything wrong with his family at all, they could be at work for all he knew. He’s been to school with him for _years_ and he never even knew his mother was dead and his father was… absent, apparently. Did Dean take care of Sam, then? For how long was his father absent? Did he send them money? What was it worse, to have your parents dead or unwilling to be with you?

“I’m sorry,” Dean says abruptly, interrupting Castiel’s train of thought. “I’m sorry, Cas. You- you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I get it, you don’t really know me and my house- my house’s kind of a mess, I know. I just- I thought it’d be cool, you know? We could get to know each other a little bit, hang out. But it’s cool, yeah, it’s cool, let’s just do your schedule thing.”

Cas is quiet as he processes what he’s just heard. In the first place, he’s not sure _why_ Dean is apologising, he didn’t do anything wrong. Secondly, but not less important, did he just hear Dean Winchester say it would be cool to hang out together? Dean with Castiel? Castiel _Novak_?... But _why_? Didn’t he have enough friends already? Literally everyone else in the class, possibly. Did Dean pity him because he had no friends? The thought almost offends him, but he’s looking at the boy sitting across from him in the table and he looks slightly mortified and he’s blushing and looking down, there’s nothing malicious about him at all. So could he really mean it? He wants to hang out with him?

Novak is not a _complete_ freak, he has hung out with people before when he was younger and was still trying to make some friends, and it usually didn’t go very well. He was quiet, very quiet, and it put people off. They always tried too hard to fill the silence with small talk and Cas really wished they didn’t because he was no good at it, why couldn’t people just be quiet or talk about themselves? He didn’t really mind hearing people go on and on about themselves, he found it fascinated, while he felt he had really nothing to say about his own life. Apparently getting together to be in silence wasn’t something teenagers did, which was too bad, in his opinion.

It was slightly terrifying, thinking that he was considering putting himself through all that exhausting work again, the big ordeal of trying to make friends, but it was being handed to him in a silver platter and well, Dean Winchester wasn’t a bad catch for a friend. Hey, they both were orphans and liked pie, there was something in common for them to talk about! (and most likely about the only thing they could possibly have in common, but oh well, he couldn’t really be picky when it came to choosing friends, could he?) Winchester also didn’t seem to be put off by his usual weirdness; he never looked down on him or gave him dirty looks, he was kind and friendly to him, he’d served him pie and even took the liberty to give him a nickname.

“Why do you call me Cas?” he asked all of a sudden.

Dean looks up, finally. “I- I don’t know. I’m sorry. It’s just short for Cas.”

Cas laughs once. “Obviously,” he says, grinning. Dean returns the smile, and for the tiniest fraction of time, it actually feels like an easy interaction. Cas wonders if this is what hanging out with a friend feels like. “I don’t mind you calling me Cas, it’s just- no one’s ever given me a nickname before… And I don’t think your house is a mess, by the way. It’s… cozy.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have to be nice, it _is_ a mess. And this is the fancier you’ll see it, I actually _cleaned_ it, so… Come on, man, I know what your house looks like.”

Oh, yes, Cas remembers that one-time Balthazar threw a party while Michael and Lucifer were away. That was probably the one and only party ever held in their house, that Cas could remember at least. All three of the youngest Novaks had to help clean the house up before the arrival of the eldest brothers, because it didn’t matter whether it was Balthazar’s party or whoever, they would all go down if there was the slightest stain in any surface. That damn house was a curse, a trap in which you had to walk on the tip of your toes all the time because the objects inside sometimes where more valuable than the people that lived inside it. He sometimes fantasized with throwing the precious porcelain plates and smashing them against the wall.

“Yes, but your house feels like a home. Mine doesn’t.”

The moment he realises he’s said that, Cas blinks a couple of times and looks away, leaning back against his chair. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t speak like that about his family. Dean doesn’t need to know, he doesn’t need his pity. He _hates_ when people pity him. He’s fine, just fine, other people have it worse. One day he’ll form his own family, have his own home, and that’ll be it, he’ll be happy and comfortable then, it’s just a matter of time, or at least that’s what Gabriel always says. _I wish time went by faster_ , he thinks bitterly.

“Well, we _do_ have pie here, that’s a point in our favour,” Dean say, offering a tentative smile his way.

He’s quite right there, so Cas huffs a laugh, nods and takes another bite of pie.

“You’re right there, Dean.”

Dean smiles from ear to ear, and Cas must admit, he looks quite handsome like that, quite honestly happy. He wonders if perhaps Dean wants a friend too, but this time someone weirder, someone who could understand darker sides of him, like Cas. And because for once he pities Dean instead of the other way around, Cas thinks maybe he should take him up on the offer of hanging out together. How bad could it be? He would be here reading instead of at home or the library, and he could have pie here, if Dean offers again.

“I’ll take you up on that offer, if it’s still on the table.”

“Huh?”

“About meeting here, to study together.”

“Really?” Dean grins widely.

“Yes, really. Come on, let’s make a new schedule.”

Castiel rips the page with the schedule he made and tosses it inside his backpack, then gets a pen out and makes five columns. Dean writes down the time of his football practises and also the hours he works at some mechanic shop, which Cas didn’t know about Dean either. He realises he had it all wrong about Dean, he has it tougher than he would have dared guess; he works, he’s a part-time parent for his younger brother, he’s in the football team and he also has to keep up appearances all the time and pretend everything’s just fine, which must be really exhausting. They decide to get together twice a week, which is good for Cas, his social anxiety can handle a getting together to study twice a week in this quiet house, that’s fine.

“Okay, now all that’s left is getting down to do the readings,” Dean says, faking excitement.

“The subject isn’t my favorites either,” Cas admits with a nod.

“Good thing we have each other for moral support, huh? And pie,” Dean winks at him and pushes the pie towards him.

Cas laughs and nods. He’s surprised, pleasantly surprised, because he’s not having a bad time at all, and though he still wishes he was back home, at least he does manage to feel truly welcomed. He doesn’t want to declare victory already, but he’s got a good feeling about this; he could, perhaps, _for once_ , have a friend.


	5. Chapter 5

They don't have the books to get started with the assignment (they agree that on Friday they're going to hit the library together before going back to Dean's to get the books the professor assigned them) and Cas turns down the young Winchester's offers to stay and have some more pie. Dean watches Cas walk all the way to his car before he closes the door. The moment the visitor is gone, Sam pops his head around the living room. The brothers look at each other for a moment, communicating so much through the silence in a way that isn't unusual for them, they know each other better than anyone else... Or so Sam had thought.

"Dean," Sam starts, slowly, cautiously, as if he's addressing a deer that might get frightened by his presence and run away.

Dean doesn't reply, just shifts in place and looks away. His heart is racing. He hadn't had time to consider Sam into the equation; _of course_ his brother was going to notice something was off with him, he gets too stupid around Cas and Sam always sees right through him. But he'd been so preoccupied thinking about Cas and getting excited about having him over for the first time, he hadn't realised his younger brother might just notice that Dean liked the guy.

"It's okay, you know?" Sam says, scratching the back of his neck and looking down at his feet too. He's no idea how to start this conversation, he knows it's probably hard for Dean to address this and frankly would have never imagined he was into guys but... It was okay, really, it was fine, he didn't care. What mattered to him was to know that Dean was okay with it. "I just- you never mentioned you liked, you know... boys."

Dean cringes. It's not like the realisation has just hit him, he's known this for a while, and Cas isn't even the first guy he felt attracted to, but to have someone else say it out loud makes all too real all too suddenly and he hadn't at all been expecting to have this conversation today. Or ever, for that matter.

"I just- I- please don't tell dad, okay? Or- or anyone for that matter."

"No, Dean, of course not."

 The brothers stand in the living room in an awkward silence for a while. There's more Sam would like to ask and more Dean wish he could tell, but none of them pursuits the subject. He wishes he could thank his brother for being so understanding, for not teasing him, for not thinking less of him or being disgusted with him, then feels stupid for ever fearing Sam could do something like that, the kid is the kindest person he knows. But because he's awful at expressing anything, all the eldest brother does is simply announce he's going to get started on dinner and Sam just disappears back to his room, and that's the end of the conversation in which Dean kind of accidentally and unwillingly comes out to his brother.

Waiting for Friday is torture, but the good kind (is there a good kind? What the hell am I even thinking? Dean asks himself), it's not a bad week at all. He plans very carefully what he's going to offer Cas for dinner (because that's what he's aiming for, to convince the other boy to stay and hang out a little bit after studying) and gets apple pie. He's going to stick to the same flavour until he learns which ones Cas likes or dislikes, although to Dean they are all just as equally wonderful. His football teammates invite him to a party on Friday but he declines, tells them he has to study.

"Dude it's the second week of class. That Novak's already making you study?" one of them asks, laughing at Dean like he's unlucky cause he got stuck with the nerdy, odd partner.

"Yeah but I don't mind, it’s better to get an early start," Dean says, never revealing to anyone just how grateful he actually is with professor Rhett.

"Damn right, you always fall behind on homework and then you get on a bitchy mood and yell at us at practise," Benny, possibly his best friend, teases him.

"I do not!" Dean argues but almost the entire team turns around, eyebrows raised in a are-you-kidding-me kind of way. Dean just rolls his eyes and laughs with the rest. Yeah, okay, he may or may not follow on a cyclical habit of falling behind with homework and then panicking at the last minute, but he gets way too caught up taking as many extra shifts as possible with Bobby, works hard to impress the man and secure a full-time position in his shop when he's done with school. He knows the position is his already, it's just a matter of time, even though Bobby still tries to convince him to apply for college because the old man has grown attached to him and wants the best for him, but Dean's a hard worker and doesn't want to take the man's kindness for granted.

“Why don’t you guys come over afterwards? I am sure we’ll keep the party up and running all night, brother,” Benny tells Dean. A couple of their friends laugh and raised eyebrows at him this time.

“ _Castiel_ Novak at a party?” one laughs, “the guy hasn’t been to a party since Balthazar graduated!”

“That’s exactly my point,” Benny says to the crowd of guys, “this is our last year before college, he’s gotta have some fun.”

“Novak doesn’t know how to have fun.”

Dean hopes in secret that’s not true.

He manages to catch Castiel's eye a couple of times during the week, and tries his best to greet him with a casual, very manly nod instead of grinning like an idiot, which would be a more honest representation of how he feels. Cas nods back then has his nose buried in a book not two seconds after, and he never acknowledges Dean's existence first. You'd think this would discourage Dean but this is actually the most Cas has ever looked his way and it's a win, a tiny one but still, he takes it.

Sam throws in a couple of curious questions out of the blue here and there, and though they always catch Dean off guard, he answers them anyway, for Sam is simply genuinely curious and there's never a trace of judgement when he addresses the subject of his older brother being into guys.

"So, you still like girls or just guys?" he asks on their way to school one day.

Dean blushes furiously but tells him he's still into girls.

"Okay, so you're... Bisexual. Right?"

"I... I guess."

Sam nods and looks out the window, dropping the subject as suddenly as he brought it up. Dean is left alone with his own thoughts. He never thought to label himself as anything, doing so just made everything more real, but, well, if he was being honest with himself (something that didn’t happen every so often), he thinks the bisexual label is probably what comes closer to how he feels.

When they're coming back from school another day, Sam asks, "and do your friends know?"

Dean doesn’t have to ask about what, he knows what the boy means. "No, only you know."

This revelation makes Sam smile. He likes it. He feels important, being the only one that apparently knows Dean good enough to have guessed this and being the only one apparently Dean trusted to talk about this.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," he tells his brother with a warm smile, puppy eyes and all. Dean feels his chest warming up with affection.

"I know, Sammy, I trust you."

During dinner later that same day, suddenly his brother says, "but you don't need to hide it, you know? If someone gives you crap about this, they don't deserve to be your friend, Dean."

Dean's hand has stopped midair and the chicken falls from the fork to the plate as his mouth hangs open. It's kind of funny but at the moment Dean's too taken aback by the wise words Sam has just spoken to reply anything. He's touched a very sensitive subject and he probably knows it. Hell, Sam probably has figured out every and each reason why Dean has kept this a secret. Dean's afraid, he really is. His life at school, where he can pretend everything’s glorious and life's just fine and fun, could change if people found out he'd be willing to take a dick into his mouth, gladly really. He doesn't want that, he likes things as they are too much, change terrifies him. What if his friends give him shit for it, call him a faggot and whichever else word people bully each other with? What if girls don't want to have anything to do with him anymore because they mistakenly assume he's gay? Being in the spotlight for the wrong reason, having people talk shit behind his back, the judgement, having people turn their backs on him... Better avoid it if he can. Sure, they're not really his friends if they do that... but damn, Dean's just 18, can count the people that care about him (really care) with less than 10 fingers and he really doesn't want to lose friends over this.

"Are you going to ask Cas out?" Sam asks on Friday morning as they have breakfast. "Do I have to disappear when he comes over?"

"No, I'm not going to ask him out,” _for now at least,_ “and what do you mean, disappear? What are you talking about?"

"Dean, come on," Sam says, smirking at him, "I'm 14 but not stupid. Do you think it's a coincidence I'm not around when you bring girls over?"

Dean almost crashes the car against the one in front of them. "What? I didn't even know you did that!"

"After I heard you with Lisa, you bet I do."

"Oh my God!" Dean wrinkles his nose and blushes so intensely a tomato could camouflage against his face. "You heard us?"

"I am as traumatised as you are," Sam mumbles.

Dean knows he'll probably laugh at this in a couple of years but right now he's so embarrassed, he wants to jump out of Baby.

"Jesus- I- no, no, you don't have to disappear when Cas is around! It's not like that."

"Why not? I thought you liked him."

"I do, I do," Dean confesses and jeez, he can't believe he's talking about this with Sam, but apparently this is his life now. "But- we're not even friends. And I don't know if he even likes guys. Or girls." Sam frowns in confusion but Dean is watching the road. "Jesus, Sammy, can we just talk about something else?"

"Sure... Are you gonna tell dad?"

Dean laughs. It's a single, overly loud 'ha!' and that's about all he says about it. Sam gets it, in some level. Neither of them can imagine how John would react but Dean doesn't get along very well with their father now, even when he plays football (a sport for tough men, according to John), listen to classic rock, brings girls home and is a proper man according to what John Winchester seems to think a man is. A part of Dean hates the man, but another primal, almost childish part of him that wants acceptance and a family deep down dies to have his father's approval. He doesn't want Sam to go for John's approval though, because he doesn't want Sam to be shaped by anyone or anything; that boy is kind and smart and ten times better than Dean, and his future will be bright, his older brother's going to make sure of that. He hates it when he listens to John push Sam into things he doesn't want (like joining some team sport, or listening to certain music) and gets downright angry when their father is anything less than amazed by the boy's achievements like winning the first prize at the school's science fair.

"You didn't even try to make it on time to see his experiment!" Dean yelled at his father when John didn't show for the fair. Sam is in his room, pretending he doesn't hear the pair screaming at each other in the kitchen.

"I was working, Dean! Science projects aren't going to put food on your plates!"

"I asked you to come on time, just this once, dad! He got first prize and you don't even care! You don't even know what he did!"

"I would probably not even understand it!"

"That's not the point! The point is you don't even try! You don't care! And he waited for you!"

"You're turning this into a bigger deal than it is!"

Dean didn't care about himself, that was a key characteristic of his whole (destructive) personality, so he never made a big deal about his father never showing up to see his football matches, he had stopped looking for John in the crowd after his fifth match, he didn’t expect to see the man sitting in the bleachers cheering for him along with the parents on his friends. But Sam was his world, almost everything he did was for his little brother, and he hated to see the boy disappointed, looking for their father in the crowd like Dean used to do, but apparently it was inevitable in their family.

This time the young Winchester makes sure to leave the house in impeccable conditions the night before. Sam looks around the living room, a little impressed; Dean’s swept the floor and all, would have probably vacuum too if the damn old vacuum cleaner worked. They’ve finished dinner and the dishes have been cleaned, dried and put away with Sammy’s help.

“Sorry, Dean, I should really start helping you more around the house,” Sam tells him while his brother hands him another clean plate to be dried.

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy, just concentrate on school.”

Sam nods and smiles with fondness.

They watch TV for a while on the couch, then Sam goes to bed and Dean stays in the living room, reading Orwell’s 1984, which Cas has already finished, so he has to catch up. He can’t go to sleep, he’s too anxious about tomorrow and he’s too into the story, although it makes him feel kind of sad and hopeless. He kind of gets it, though, how the character feels, pretending to lead a certain kind of life while keeping a huge secret he’s terrified will get out for everyone to see. He’s being dramatic, he knows it, but he can’t help being afraid of coming out.

It’s finally Friday. Dean and Cas are on the same last class at the end of the week. When it’s finished, relieved students hurry out the door as they discuss their plants for the weekend (many will be going to Benny’s party) and complain about being back at school. Once again, Dean waits for Cas as he casually leans against the frame of the door. He watches his partner calmly put his booklet and pen inside his backpack. Castiel is like that, always going from one place to another slowly, taking things with ease, he never seems to have a hurry to leave the school, unlike all their classmates. He doesn’t put away his new book, The Martian Chronicles by [Ray Bradbury](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Bradbury), just carries it around in his hand.

“Hey, Cas,” he says when the other boy is standing next to him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies in his usual deep tone.

“You’re reading Bradbury now?” he asks Cas as they start to walk away together in the direction of the library.

Castiel looks down at the book in his hand for a moment, as if he had forgotten what book he was carrying, then looks up with a little surprise.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“I’ve read that book,” Dean points at it, grinning widely. He feels unreasonably proud of himself for _finally_ beating Cas to a book. “It’s pretty cool. Let me know what you think about it when you finish it.”

Novak is frowning slightly, studying him. Dean tries to keep a straight face and not blush. Why is Cas looking at him like that anyway? Can’t a guy read?

“Okay,” Cas eventually replies and keeps walking without saying anything.

Dean buries his hands on his pockets and follows him, stealing glances over the corner of his eyes at the dark-haired, handsome young man that accompanies him. He can’t believe this is actually quite happening, and at the same time he feels stupid; _nothing_ is happening, they’re just _walking_. He doesn’t mind the silence, doesn’t feel the need to make small talk and he knows Castiel isn’t the kind to chit-chat either, so why force him into it?

When they get to the library, Dean isn’t surprised to see how familiar Cas is with it, he finds their books quickly and brings them all to the front desk where the librarian gives them permission to take them home.

“You know the library back to back, huh, Cas?” Dean teases him with a small smile. The other boy merely glances at him over the corner of his eye, nodding once as they walk out to the parking lot.

“I’ll follow your car,” he tells Dean before he walks away to his car. Dean stands there, wondering if he said something wrong, before he goes to his car, where Sam is waiting.

In no time at all, Cas is sitting rather stiffly in the couch, looking around the room as Dean busies himself in the kitchen.

“Go ahead and start if you want, Cas, I’ll be there in a minute,” he calls over his shoulder.

Dean puts water on the kettle and leaves it to heat up while he takes three plates out and cuts three pieces of pie (because, of course, he isn’t going to forget about Sam). He makes himself some coffee and tea for Cas. Sam comes to get his piece of pie and then he retreats back to his room, not before smirking and sharing a knowing, teasing look with his brother just to annoy him. When Dean sets down the piece of pie and the cup of tea in the coffee table just in front of Cas, the other looks up with a very surprised look on his face. Dean has a second to notice his copy of Orwell’s 1984 in Novak’s hands and he blushes furiously, as if he’s just got caught doing something embarrassing, but he quickly reminds himself it’s just a book, the other young man doesn’t know he’s reading it just to- to- to impress him? To make a weird kind of connection with him that he’s not even aware of? Bottom line it, Dean feels stupid and has the face of a deer caught in the headlights.

“Green tea, right?” Dean asks for unneeded confirmation because of course he remembers Castiel saying he liked green tea, but he needs to say something and his brain’s stupid around the handsome Novak.

“Y-yes…” Cas stammers under his breath. He’s frowning, looking down at the tea like he doesn’t know what the hell that it. After a moment, looking mortified but also wearing one of his soft, kind smiles, he asks, “you didn’t just buy that for me, did you, Dean?”

Dean blushes. “Well, I couldn’t just give you water again, what kind of host would I be?” he jokes to divert the conversation a little.

“You didn’t have to do that… Thank you.”

The Young Winchester shrugs and shakes his head, an odd combination of movements that probably makes him look weird, as Cas sets his book down on the coffee table and takes a sip of tea. He looks up at Dean through his eyelashes as he holds the cup near his face and offers him a half-smile. Dean all but melts as he sits next to him, grinning back.

“Glad you like it, Cas,” he mumbles.

“I apologize for not bringing any snacks,” Cas says after a moment. “I’ll bring something next time.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ve got us covered.”

“I insist,” Cas states, looking strangely determined, like this is some serious business, he’s at fault for going into someone’s house without bringing some food to share. He looks down at the Orwell’s book for a moment before he sips some more tea. He points at it a moment later. “Is it yours?” Dean nods. “Have you finished it?”

“No, but I will on the weekend,” he tells Castiel.

Cas nods. “It’s a good book,” he mumbles with an edge of melancholy.

“I agree. It’s weird… It makes me feel kind of alone, but at the same time, it feels kind of nice to have one person that gets how you feel. The author, I mean. He describes loneliness, hmm, very well. I kind of get how Winston feels. He can cope with the whole world not getting him as long as he has Julia… At least until it all goes south, obviously.”

Castiel stares back at him, frowning as he regards Dean, nodding over and over again, lips parting for a moment. Dean blushes, suddenly feeling exposed, and crosses his arms over his chest. Honestly, the look of perplexity in Novak’s face is somewhat insulting, but Dean is too busy hoping he didn’t say something stupid or pathetic to have time to get offended in any way.

“Yes… Yes, I agree,” Cas finally says, then takes another sip of tea, finally looking away. Dean feels like a heavy weight lifted off his shoulders and smiles to himself as he takes his coffee.

Dean knows Cas is quiet so he isn’t surprised when he doesn’t speak for nearly the totality of the three hours he stays in the house. He doesn’t mind it, although he wishes he could get to know him better. They sit in a comfortable silence, their elbows something knocking together as they read. It sends shivers down Dean’s spines every time it happens. He has his feet over the coffee table, Cas has them planted on the carpet. He is lost in the book, frowning slightly as he concentrates if particularly boring parts, sometimes stopping to take notes. Dean steals glances over the corner of his eyes from time to time and smiles to himself. He plays his favorite records to have some background music, it helps him concentrate, and luckily Cas doesn’t mind it. He wonders if the boy likes the same music, but his guest makes no comments on the subject, doesn’t hum along or move his feet, but he doesn’t tell Dean to turn it off either. At some point he gets up and prepares more tea and pie for Cas, who keeps eating without ever taking his eyes off of the book. Dean watches him smile to himself with every bite of pie and it warms his heart. It’s like watching a kid have candy for the first time.

He thinks he should be nervous, he should have more trouble concentrating, he’d expected it, but the presence of the other next to him makes him feel calm, at ease. He has the pathetic feeling they’ve been friends for a long time, that they understand each other, they don’t mind the silence, it’s not awkward. He likes it, he likes it too much, and tries to stop his mind from over-thinking stuff, from getting too excited. He has no idea what’s going through Castiel’s mind, really. He could be counting down the minutes to go home, in reality, but he wants to believe he feels comfortable. He _looks_ comfortable, leaning back on the couch, his usual stiff position, with his back completely straight, now forgotten. But the truth is they’re not friends, not even close, though he thinks they’re in the right path. He’ll warm Castiel up in their study sessions, make him feel comfortable in his presence, then, hopefully, the relationship will develop into friendship… _And, then, maaaaaaybe, into something more,_ Dean can’t help hoping for.

Blue eyes suddenly meet his and stare back at him for a moment. Cas blushes as Dean realises he’s been staring at him for a while. Cas moves his hand up to his face, rubbing his nose for a moment.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks Dean.

“N-no,” Dean answers before clearing his throat and looking away.

Cas looks down at his watch.

“I should go home,” he states. He sighs and stands up, lifting his arms over his head to stretch. His shirt goes up too and Dean sneaks a peak at his lower belly. It’s flat, just as lean as he’d imagined it, no abs but he doesn’t care about it, but his sharp angles are more defined, more toned that he’s dared dream. A line of hair forms a trail from his bellybutton downwards to where Dean can’t see under his jeans. Cas has definitely grown nicely during the summer, and Dean knows for a fact he’s a runner, he’s seen him at the school’s running track a couple of times while he practised with the football team. It’s definitely giving him a very nice shape, no wonder so many girls are after him at school. He’s effortlessly turning into a man, alright, getting more and more handsome as time goes by. Dean just _knows_ he’s only going to get better with time, like a fine wine.

He looks away quickly before Cas can catch him staring, clearing his throat again as he feels it suddenly dry.

“Okay, yeah, enough history for today.”

“I agree.”

“But- hmm, don’t you want to maybe stay? We could- we could order pizza, or something. I don’t know, what do you like?”

“Oh… That’s fine, Dean, I need to get home anyway, my brothers will be upset if I don’t show up for dinner.”

Cas carefully puts his books inside his backpack and throws it over his shoulder.

“Oh… Okay, I get it.” He doesn’t, really, being the older brother, he doesn’t know what it’s like to have people waiting for you.

Blue eyes look at Dean expectantly.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Dean blushes and hurries to the door to open the door for him. He grabs the doorknob but doesn’t twist it. “So, Cas… Hmm… There’s a party tonight, at Benny’s…” The other boy simply stared back, waiting. Does he really not get it? “Do you want to go?”

A faint smirk flashes through Castiel’s lips, something sarcastic that lasts a second or less. His eyes say _me? at a party?._

“It’s our last year, Cas, come on,” Dean says. He feelings his palms suddenly sweating. _Don’t push it, Dean_ , he tells himself, but he can’t help himself, he wants him to go.

“Dean,” Cas starts, then takes a deep breath, looking around the room, before he proceeds, “you know I don’t belong in that sort of gatherings. I put people off.”

“That’s not true,” it is, “the girls in our class are always very happy to see you,” he smirks, and he doesn’t know why though, because he doesn’t really want to encourage Castiel to hook up with people that aren't himself.

Cas’ hold around the strap of the backpack tightens, he adverts his eyes again. Dean has the feeling he said the wrong thing.

“Maybe some other time,” Novak answers, but Dean suspects he’s being more polite than honest.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

Dean represses a defeated sigh as he opens the door for Cas.

“Some other time, then,” he says, giving Cas his most convincing smile.

Castiel nods, not meeting his eyes. “Have a nice weekend, Dean.”

“Yeah, you too, Cas.”

Dean watches him walk away, feeling like a complete idiot, his heart sinking slightly. He’s not sure what it was that made Castiel uncomfortable, but he hates himself for ruining the mood, for pushing things. They’d had a good afternoon, quiet one, but good one still, only to have it ruin in a couple of minutes. He knew Castiel wasn’t the type that likes parties, and it wasn’t that he wanted to push the dark-haired boy to change, but he was dying to spend some more time with him, to have an _actual_ conversation together. That night at Benny’s, Dean drank more beer than he should have, shrugged it off when his friend asked him what was the matter, why the long face, and ended up making out with a random girl in the bathroom just to make himself feel something else.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel's week was a long, long one. He came back from Dean's feeling rather unsettled. He couldn't understand at least half of the interactions he'd shared with the other young man and Dean per se was suddenly an absolute mystery. Cas had always considered him to be plain, normal (and probably not in a good way), predictable. He'd been wrong. Dean was slightly peculiar, a bit of a nervous wreck for reasons unknown but kinder than he'd imagined, with an easy smile plastered across his face half the time their eyes met. His life wasn't the pretty picture Castiel had painted for him either and he left the house feeling somewhat sorry for him. Dean had a job (part time but whatever, still a job), had an active, almost dominant role in the upbringing of his brother and on top of that he had to deal with school, football practise and whatever the deal was with his father. And also, apparently drank beer in the afternoon, which rang a bit of a red flag for Cas.

He opened the tall, metal fence outside his house and closed it behind him afterwards. Every moment was slow and deliberate. When he was in front of the beautifully carved wooden front entrance, he stopped for a moment. He sighed deeply, his hand resting on the doorknob, before he opened the door. Soft classical music came from somewhere in the house and he could hear chatter in the kitchen. Castiel makes haste now, moving quickly to his bedroom before he runs into anyone, and closes the door behind him. He lets his backpack drop on the foot of his bed and lays on his chair, relishing in the silent privacy his room provides. He doesn’t quite know what he’s hiding from, but he’s hiding indeed. From everyone and everything, perhaps.

He can still taste the pie. Dean had offered more, had even offered Cas to stay, but why would he? Surely, Dean had better things to do than entertain him. Studying together was one thing, but what could they possibly do together? What could they have on common? Nothing, probably, they’d get bored with each other pretty soon, surely.

 _You could make an effort_ , a whisper comes from the back of his mind, that side of him that many years ago had tried to make friends and felt bad for failing. He’d drowned that side of him, convinced himself it was a matter of time, he’d meet more interesting people once he went off to college. There, possibly, _hopefully_ , people would be more diverse, less repetitive, cyclical.

Dean was a perfectly kind person and perhaps had a darker life than he’d given him credit for. Maybe he had it on him to understand some aspects of Castiel’s withdrawn, strange personality. He certainly didn’t seem weirded out by him, uncomfortable by the way he stared or by the things he said. Sure, he acted a little weirder than usual, but maybe it was simply because they were just getting to know each other.

 _You’ve been going to school together for years, how could you not know his mom was dead?_ he scolds himself. He feels slightly ashamed. Has he had his head so far up his own ass this whole time, feeling sorry for himself and better than everyone else in the class, that maybe he missed the chance of connecting with people that were worth the while? And even meant, being worth the while? Maybe _he_ wasn’t worth their time.

 _No, let’s not go down that path again_.

He swallows hard. He really doesn’t want to go back to that phase of self-hate. The young Novak has spent countless nights staring at the ceiling at night, wondering why he couldn’t be normal, more charming, have more friends. Lucifer was right, he just didn’t fit in anywhere, not even at home. All his siblings were full of charisma, they were intriguing and some (the eldest ones) terrifying but appealing nonetheless, however strange. But Cas was… he felt _small_ , unimportant, irrelevant. He had told himself it was nice to be peculiar, it would pay off eventually; he’d have a great partner or friends, smart people who would be impressed by his own wits and the number of books he’d read, by his critical thinking, his authenticity. They would find his quirks adorable, his clothes pertinent, his manners appropriate.

It had happened _once_ , with Tom, and that had turned out very badly for him.

Perhaps he had set the bar too high. Perhaps he wasn’t half as interesting or smart as he’d liked to think.

 _Back to feeling small, then,_ he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hated feeling like this again. He could feel the anxiety moving up his body, an odd warmth that started in his legs and crawled up his spine to settle on the back of his neck. He cracked his neck, trying to relieve some stress from his muscles. Michael constantly told him not to, that he would hurt his neck.

Cas spends the entire week debating his feelings, trying to decide what is best: going back to doubting his very personality or embracing being a bit of a superior dick? At least he wasn’t an entire asshole, he never treated people badly, he just couldn’t _connect_ with them, couldn’t bring himself to pretend he cared about the things they cared about.

He also starts to wonder what he’s going to say to his family about his study sessions with Dean. He can picture Lucifer’s jaw clenching the moment he told his older brother he was going to spend several hours a week in another boy’s house, out of sight, out of reach. Muscle memory in his body remembers the pain of Lucifer’s beating and urges him to twist the truth, if not downright lie, to avoid a rerun. Better to keep Lucifer in the dark. After all, he’s not really doing anything wrong, it’s not like that with Dean, but his brother doesn’t trust him and most likely never will trust him around another guy again. Castiel goes to church in the middle of the week and prays for forgiveness for lying, but makes a definite choice to do that if someone asks about his whereabouts. The official story will be his partner’s a girl, if anyone asks him.

Social conventions and reading people’s intentions have never been easy for him, but catching Dean glancing back at him over his shoulder a couple of times a week during class really throws him off. He’s suddenly very away of the young Winchester’s presence in the classroom, can _feel_ Dean turning his head around to look at him. He usually nods at him, then looks away. Sometimes, he smiles for just a fraction a second before turning back around. But _why_? Has Dean always been aware of his existence? Most people politely ignore him, ever so often nodding at him or throwing quick ‘good morning’s his way when they sit next to him, and Castiel now kind of likes it that way: no need to get anxious about social interactions if you _have none_ , right?

But what if he makes an effort? What if Dean really wants to be his friend, for whatever crazy reason? Does he want a friend to cry with over the loss of parents? Would he like to complain to him about how unfair and hard life was? He’s sure he knows about Castiel’s own diseased parents, Balthazar and Gabriel had been popular at the school, and very opened about their lives with anyone willing to hear. Surely Dean thinks his live is harder, and it probably _is_ , but sometimes Cas wished that people realised that money doesn’t necessarily mean you have a nice life. It doesn’t buy happiness, really, just a little comfort, it takes some worries away, but it can’t buy friends, charm or the love of your brothers. And he doesn’t really _have_ money; he can’t have his part of the inheritance until he’s an adult, legally, so he still depends on his older brothers. He lives in that big house, but it isn’t _his_ , it feels far from what people would describe as a home, it’s just a building he lives it, for now.

Friday finally comes around and Cas catches sight of Dean waiting by the door again, but he doesn’t hurry. His heart starts beating faster in anticipation, as it always does when he has to talk to people he doesn’t feel quite comfortable to be around with… which is most people, to be honest. He puts his things back in his backpack, hesitating for a moment before he decides to keep The Martian Chronicles out, although he knows he probably won’t get a chance to read while they head together to the library to get the books they need.

“Hey, Cas,” he greets him when Cas finally, rather reluctantly, goes to stand next to him.

Why is he so gloomy today? He’s trying to befriend Dean, apparently, perhaps, not going off to war or something.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies.

They start to walk away together, heading towards the library.

“You’re reading Bradbury now?”

Cas looks down for a moment, checking he’s got the right book in his hand. The front cover is hiding under his hand, so Dean probably got a glimpse of it before. What does Dean mean, _now_? Well, it’s really no secret he reads a lot, but he’s not sure he likes people staring at him. It always gave him the feeling people were judging him, silently, secretly.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“I’ve read that book,” Dean points at it, grinning widely. “It’s pretty cool. Let me know what you think about it when you finish it.”

Cas frowns as he studies Dean. Is he mocking him? No, it doesn’t seem like something Dean would do, he doesn’t belittle people. He feels like an asshole again, because his first instinct if to think badly of the other instead of believing he actually _reads_ books. He can’t quite imagine Dean sitting in a chair, quietly and for hours, simply reading. He imagines him running in the field, playing manly sports, getting injured, drinking beer and shrugging the pain away. He’s the type of guy surely his brothers wish Castiel was. 

But apparently, he does read.

“Okay,” Cas replies after what is probably a long time.

They walk in silence and thankfully Dean doesn’t try to make small talk, he just follows him through the now almost empty hallways. When they’re in the library, Cas finds their assigned books very quickly. He’s been here many times before, he knows where each section is and what he’s going to find in them. Sometimes he likes to go in there during breaks and just browse through the titles of the books. He usually doesn’t take any of them home, he’s got his father’s library to go through before he starts reading books chosen on his own. They get permission to take the books home and head out to the parking lot together.

“You know the library back to back, huh, Cas?” Dean teases him with a small smile.

Castiel supresses the instinct to flinch. Okay, is Dean mocking him now? He can’t tell, but he thins he might be, maybe he’s laughing at him because he knows Castiel kind of hangs out by himself there, most likely because he’s got nowhere else to be, no one else to be with. He glances at Dean over the corner of his eyes. He’s got a small smile, it doesn’t look malicious, but who knows, maybe Dean’s good at pretending. Maybe that’s all this is, pretending to be friendly so as to not make things awkward with the assignment they got stuck together with.

“I’ll follow your car,” he tells Dean before he walks away to his car, wanting to be alone to gather his thoughts, build up his walls again.

In no time at all, they’re at Dean’s and he’s telling Cas to make himself comfortable while he hurries to the kitchen, dropping his backpack somewhere along the way. Sam greets Cas politely before he goes to his room. Cas hesitates for a moment before he goes to sit on the edge of the couch, gently dropping his backpack by his feet.

“Go ahead and start if you want, Cas, I’ll be there in a minute,” Dean calls over his shoulder.

He sees Orwell’s 1984 on the coffee table and picks it up. It looks a little worn-out but it’s a more recent edition than the one he has at home. Weird, he thinks, he’s _just_ finished reading that book a couple of days ago. He opens the book, looking for his favorite parts.

‘… _For the first time he perceived that if you want to keep a secret you must also hide it from yourself. You must know all the while that it is there, but until it is needed you must never let it emerge into your consciousness in any shape that could be given a name…’_

Castielcloses the book with a sigh when he reads those words. That book touched all kinds of buttons. He wished he could go back to keeping secrets from himself, for being an ignorant about his own life, but he can’t, he can’t hide how lost he feels, that he knows he makes excuses to make up for the lack of friend, he can’t hide he likes guys anymore and he doesn’t have the faintest interest in women, however beautiful. But he’s already he’s already spoken the words in his mind and so the secrets were out.

Suddenly, Dean’s standing next to him, setting down a plate with pie and a cut of tea in front of him on the coffee table. The combination of smells is wonderful, it’s apple pie again, and green tea, Cas’ favorite.

He looks up at Dean, who asks, “green tea, right?” with a small smile.

“Y-yes…” Cas stammers, lost in thought. He frowns as he thinks, vaguely remembering mentioning green tea last time he was in the house and Dean had asked him what kind of tea he wanted. He actually remembered? And he got pie too? Not just for him, surely, right? He felt terrible, suddenly. He should have brought something, how unpolite of him to come over emptyhanded again, while Dean went out to get pie and even bought him the tea he liked, even though apparently no one drank tea. It was one thing to be polite, but he was just stunned that Dean had gone that far. He’s embarrassed, but can’t help feeling a little lighter, part of his worries dissipating; yes, Dean _is_ kind, he hadn’t been wrong about that, so he looks up, smiling despite himself “You didn’t just buy that for me, did you, Dean?”

Dean blushes. “Well, I couldn’t just give you water again, what kind of host would I be?” he jokes.

“You didn’t have to do that… Thank you.”

He feels suddenly stupid for thinking Dean had been teasing him about the library, thinking he was just pretending to be friendly. _Stop being so suspicious of everyone and appreciate what they do for you_ , Cas told himself.

Dean shrugs and shakes his head, again looking a little nervous under Cas’ stare as he sets Dean’s book down on the coffee table and takes a sip of tea. It’s not the brand he’s used to, but he likes it nonetheless, and he gives Dean another shy, half-smile. Dean grins back at him.

“Glad you like it, Cas,” he mumbles as he sits next to him.

“I apologize for not bringing any snacks,” Cas says after a moment. “I’ll bring something next time.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ve got us covered.”

“I insist,” Cas states, and makes a mental note not to forget to bring something. He’ll use some of his allowance for it, he doesn’t really have any other needs for it except for money for lunch. He looks down at the Orwell’s book for a moment before he sips some more tea. He points at it a moment later. “Is it yours?” Dean nods. “Have you finished it?”

“No, but I will on the weekend,” he replies.

Cas nods. “It’s a good book,” he mumbles, and can’t help feeling a little conflicted about the book. He liked it, he really did, but it left him feeling a little sad, lonely.

“I agree. It’s weird… It makes me feel kind of alone, but at the same time, it feels kind of nice to have one person that gets how you feel. The author, I mean. He describes loneliness, hmm, very well. I kind of get how Winston feels. He can cope with the whole world not getting him as long as he has Julia… At least until it all goes south, obviously.”

Castiel stares back at him, frowning as he regards Dean, nodding over and over again, lips parting for a moment. He can’t quite believe Dean just said that, put his own thoughts out there in words, a bit simplistically but correctly. Had he completely underestimated him?

Dean blushes and crosses his arms over his chest. Cas realises he’s been staring, perhaps a little too much, and maybe it’s impolite. He doesn’t want Dean to think he thinks he’s stupid or anything like it, but he’s truly surprised to even learn he read the book.

“Yes… Yes, I agree,” Cas finally says, then takes another sip of tea, finally looking away.

They barely speak after that. Cas does his best to concentrate on the book, though the idea of this new Dean Winchester flutters around his head. He’s more interesting that he’d given him credit for, kinder than should be possible. Handsome, too, that was undeniable. It was a bit unfair, really. He had never _disliked_ Dean, but he’d always just assumed he was completely uninteresting. Could he have been wrong? Could they _maybe_ be friends?

Dean puts background music on; it’s some old classic rock. He doesn’t mind it, he can live with it, he’s endured worse; Anna’s going through a pop phase and will only turn off the damn music when Michael and Lucifer are present. Castiel prayed once that she would stop listening to Ariana Grande soon because he can’t take it anymore, he really can’t, he feels like she’s forcing him out of the house with her goddamn music.

At some point, the young Winchester even gives him more pie and makes some more tea. Cas doesn’t know what to say, isn’t used to saying thank you, so he just keeps studying. It’s odd, how it’s not uncomfortable at all. He leans back against the couch and tunes the music out as he reads and reads, and takes notes. Only went he can most certainly see Dean staring at him from the corner of his eyes, he turns around. Dean doesn’t look away. His eyes are so green, Cas notices. He blushes, unconsciously rubbing his nose for a moment, wondering if maybe his hair is sticking out in weird directions again, it does that a lot. Again, he should really start brushing it.

 “Do I have something on my face?” he asks Dean.

“N-no,” Dean answers before clearing his throat and looking away.

Cas looks down at his watch.

“I should go home,” he states. He sighs and stands up, lifting his arms over his head to stretch.

Dean clears his throat again, then says, “okay, yeah, enough history for today.”

“I agree.” He’d most likely keep reading Bradbury’s book when he’s home, though.

“But- hmm, don’t you want to maybe stay? We could- we could order pizza, or something. I don’t know, what do you like?”

“Oh…” Cas begins to internally panic again. _No, this is too soon. What would we even do? What would we talk about? All we have in common are these two books we read. No, I need to mentally prepare first for this._ “That’s fine, Dean, I need to get home anyway, my brothers will be upset if I don’t show up for dinner.” Which is true, they won’t appreciate him not showing up for dinner if they’ve already cooked something, but it’s also a bit of an excuse. Because he _always_ makes excuses.

Cas carefully puts his books inside his backpack and throws it over his shoulder.

“Oh… Okay, I get it.”

Dean doesn’t move from the couch. Should he just leave?

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Dean blushes and hurries to the door to open the door for him. He grabs the doorknob but doesn’t twist it. “So, Cas… Hmm… There’s a party tonight, at Benny’s…”

_Where’s he going with this…?_

“Do you want to go?”

Cas can’t help almost laughing.

A party? _Really?_

“It’s our last year, Cas, come on,” Dean says.

So, what, should he be getting drunk, having the time of his life like they show in movies?

 _Yeah, probably, that sounds about right,_ he thinks, but he can’t, he never could be that type of person. Besides, he doesn’t fit in. He never manages to say the right thing, sustain an interesting conversation without pretending to be something he’s not. It’s tiring, trying to force people to like you.

“Dean,” Cas starts, then takes a deep breath, looking around the room, before he proceeds because it’s kind of hard to admit out loud that you don’t belong, you’ve never belonged, “you know I don’t belong in that sort of gatherings. I put people off.”

“That’s not true,” it is, “the girls in our class are always very happy to see you,” he smirks.

Cas’ hold around the strap of the backpack tightens, he adverts his eyes again.

Yes, because he’s a boy, and boys like girls, and normal boys should be kissing girls, having sex by now probably, and there’s something else Cas can’t do. He doesn’t want to go and pretend he’s into girls, or have to talk to other guys about the girls in their class, best case scenario they’ll mock him for still being a virgin, a damn, he doesn’t want that either.

“Maybe some other time,” Cas answers, but if he could have ever meant it, he doesn’t now.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

“Some other time, then,” he smiles.

Castiel nods, not meeting his eyes. “Have a nice weekend, Dean.”

“Yeah, you too, Cas.”

Cas leaves, all comfort built that afternoon gone. He’ll never fit in, he’ll just never fit in. Even if he becomes friends with Dean, he’ll never be anything but Dean’s side, odd friend, never part of something bigger, so he closes the door behind him in his room and reads for hours, trying to forget about the young man, about everyone and everything. Dean’s probably out, kissing some girl, drinking beer, having fun, because he’s got a lot of other friends, and here Cas is, lowering his standards, trying to convince himself this one person might like him after all, but will Dean ever _understand_ him? It’s terrifying to open himself up again because it gives place to judgement, and he’s got enough judging himself and trying to figure out who he is to have someone else do it for him…

But secretly he craves for the company, for the kindness that Dean constantly gives, it's too good an offer to let it go, and so he prepares himself to maybe, perhaps, if the time is right someday, if he stops making excuses, accept Dean's next proposal (if there's any, and hopefully there will be) and spend time together.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean wakes up on Saturday morning sprawled over Benny’s couch. He has a raging headache and groans as he sits up very slowly. His neck is unhappy about the position Dean slept in and lets him know that right away. He cracks his neck and looks around; the living-room is a mess. He goes to the kitchen to grab a garbage bag and starts cleaning up as he goes, picking up empty bottles of beer and other alcoholic beverages, plastic cups that can be found all over the place and abandoned bags of snacks. Dean wrinkles his nose and turns his head away as he throws now warm beer left in some cups down the drain; the smell of it makes him nauseous. He’d drank a lot the night before, and coming from him, that’s saying something.

 _I should drink less_ , he tells himself as he always does when he gets hangovers like this one. The events of the night before are slightly blurry but he remembers, with a little bit of shame, having a hot make out session with someone on the bathroom. _Don’t use people like that_ , _deal with your shit, coward._

But he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to think about Castiel if he can avoid it, his head hurts enough as it is, no need to add the anxiety that comes with an unrequited crush. What the hell is he even aiming for? Is it even a good idea to befriend someone you like, knowing they’re never going to like you back? _You’re a masochist,_ he thinks bitterly, but knows he can’t stop himself. He’s going to continue with his plan to try to win Cas over anyway because he has no self-love and his destructive habits are deep-rooted.

Benny and his girlfriend wake up not long after him and the three of them do quick work on the house, leaving it in pretty decent conditions well before noon.

“You okay, brother?” Benny asks him as he walks Dean out the house, carrying two bags full of garbage. “You seemed… I don’t know, off, I guess, last night. Did Cassie manage to put a smile on your face?”

Dean can hear the smirk on his friend’s face, he doesn’t even need to lift his gaze to see it, he knows him too well. His eyes are glued to the floor, barely opened; the bright sunlight is enhancing his headache. Dean smiles but says nothing regarding Cassie, he doesn’t kiss and tell, and Benny knows that.

“I’m fine,” Dean answers.

“Is Novak working you hard?” he asks as he drops the bags inside the garbage can.

“Nah.”

“Is he not a good partner?”

“He’s fine.”

“And he didn’t want to come last night?”

“Nope.”

“Shame, his loss.”

Dean nods. _Mine too_.

“Are you sure you okay? You didn’t get into a fight with your all man, did you?”

Dean scoffs. “Haven’t even heard from him in like a week.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Benny shrugs. “For your dad being an asshole?”

“Hey, don’t call my dad an asshole,” Dean scolds him, but he’s almost smiling.

“You know he is.”

“Yeah but only _I_ can call him that.”

Benny rolls his eyes. “Whatever, brother. When you decide you want to talk about whatever’s bothering you, ring me up.”

Dean nods but knows he won’t. He knows, he’s quite sure Benny wouldn’t say anything bad about him being into guys, but he just can’t word it, can’t say it out loud. What if things turned weird? What if other people found out? What if his friends treated him differently? He can imagine them giving him dirty looks in the changing rooms after a game, turning away from him as if he was some kind of perv.

No, he can’t talk about it. At least not yet.

He returns home with enough time to make lunch for Sam. He can barely keep a glass of water down, so he doesn’t push his stomach to have anything else.

“Dean, I could have made myself a sandwich, you know?” Sam tells him. “You worry too much about me.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my brain dying,” Dean grunts, squinting his eyes to focus them as he slices tomatoes.

Sam chuckles. “Sometimes I wonder if you do this to yourself to keep me from drinking,” he says. “You look like crap.”

“Anything to keep you in the right path,” Dean jokes, then they share a look before they both grin.

Dean takes a short nap, then drives to Bobby’s shop, making a quick stop in Garth’s house, where Dean drops Sam off for the afternoon.

“Stay out of trouble!” Dean teases Sam, knowing the pair will probably do something nerdy all afternoon. All the better, really, he likes not having to worry about Sam more than he already does, the kid’s a blessing. And Garth, he’s an odd fella, but a good friend to his brother, a geeky and kind kid.

He works all afternoon and until late evening. Bobby tells him to take a break, eat something, but Dean feelings slightly disgusted with himself, so he takes work as a punishment today, even though he really can’t say he doesn’t like it. If this is what he’s going to do until grey hair replaces his dirty blond one, he’ll take it. He’s good at it and the job demands concentration from his part, drowning out every other thought, every preoccupation, every drop of anxiety that runs through his veins. There’s no Cassie and guilt for a while, no Cas and what-ifs questions running around his mind.

Afterwards he picks up Sam from Garth’s. As he drives through town, he catches a quick glimpse of the Novak bunch coming out of the movie theater. Apparently, his brothers are back in town, which isn’t unusual, he knows they come back to visit some weekends. He barely has time to make Cas out from the crowd when the light goes green and he’s forced to drive away.

Sam orders Dean to have at least some toasts for dinner before he crashes on the couch, falling asleep nearly instantaneously.

John Winchester calls on Sunday morning to check on the boys. He lets Dean know he’s going to send them money, but he probably won’t be back for another week. His eldest son doesn’t even fight him, doesn’t ask him to return home. At this point, it’s better when John stays away. The less they see each other, the better for their relationship. He was tired of trying to make John a better father, for Sam’s sake, it got him nothing but disappointment and loud arguments between the two of them.

They go to Bobby’s for Sunday lunch. Ellen and Jo are there as well. It’s the closest thing the boys have to a family. Dean suspects Bobby and Ellen are a thing, or at least into each other, and he conspires with Sam and Jo to leave the two adults alone as much as they can when they go over for lunch. The three of them go for a ride around town, get pie at Dean’s favorite café, catch up with Jo. She’s pretty, Dean knows it, and old enough that he wouldn’t feel bad having a thing for her, but somehow it never quite felt right, the girl was like a sister to him.

He works the rest of the afternoon, finishes Orwell’s book before bed and on Monday and Tuesday he regrets not having done any homework all weekend when new assignments and readings are added to his lists of things to do.

“You shouldn’t have worked on Sunday, Dean,” Sam scolds him as they sit together on Tuesday on the kitchen to get homework done.

Dean ignores him. What can he respond to that? He doesn’t want to worry Sam with money, but he does, secretly. John hasn’t sent him the promised money yet and he hates running low on cash, it puts him of edge when he’s counting pennies, so he’d rather do extra hours at Bobby’s to make sure their bank account shows a number that has at least two digits. He knows the old man would gladly lend him more money if he asked, but he’s asked so many times before, it just makes him uncomfortable now, so he doesn’t until it’s absolutely necessary.

When Cas comes over on Wednesday, Dean is restless, nervous for reasons beyond Cas. He forgot to put his books away the night before and they’re sprawled over the coffee table, right where he left them the night before. He’s falling a little behind with his chemistry homework. It’s not just that the bloody professor had given them a ton of exercises, but the real problem was that he _sucked_ at that subject. He takes forever to finish the exercises and then when he compares the result to the one given by the professor and sees his is wrong, it makes him want to pull his hair out. He also forgets to get some snacks for them, but Cas shows up with an apple pie.

Cas is looking at his homework when he returns to the living-room, a cup of coffee in one hand (he’s going to need it) and one with tea in the other. He feels his cheeks flushing as Cas watches the mess that are his notes; there are entire sections crossed out, questions written on the margins, half-done exercises now completely abandoned. He knows Cas is good at chemistry, surely he could easily point out all his dumb mistakes. He feels stupid. He’s bad but usually not _this_ bad, why did he have to see his homework _today_ , of all days? Dean’s pride is momentarily hurt as he imagines the other young man thinking he’s a dumbass for messing up the homework so badly.

But the other makes no comment, gives him no dirty looks.

“How was your weekend, Cas? Had a good time with your brothers?” he asks before Cas had a chance to hide behind a book for the following hours. He feels kind of stupid, though. People don’t usually ask this on _Wednesday_ , but he hadn’t had the time (or the courage) to talk to him during the week. Whatever he’d said wrong the last time Cas had been over, it was still a mystery to Dean, and he hoped ardently that Novak wasn’t still upset about it.

Cas frowns. “How did you-”

“I saw you coming out of the movies,” Dean shrugs, sips some coffee.

“Oh. It was fine,” Cas shrugs. “That reminds me…”

He opens his backpack and drops a small pile of candy over the table. Dean sits up, grinning.

“From Gabriel, am I right?”

“Yes. It’s too much for me, I thought I’d share it with you.”

A shy, small smile ventures into Castiel’s lips. It suits him, Dean thinks. He looks kind, and beautiful, and damn, there’s no trace of resentment in his features. However Dean had offended him, it’s forgotten now. The easy way Cas forgives just adds up to another reason the young man’s crushing on him so hard for.

“Thanks, Cas. I kinda need the fuel,” Dean says before he opens a chocolate bar.

“How was your weekend?” Cas asks, looking down at the piece of candy of his choosing. The question seems kind of deliberate, careful.

“Fine,” Dean answers just as carefully. Why? He doesn’t know. “Worked most of the time.”

Cas nods, then after a moment of silence says, “I saw you driving around. With, hmm, Sam and another girl.”

“Ah, yeah, Jo.”

Nothing’s said afterwards, so Dean gets the inexplicable, dumb urge to explain who she is, as if to clarify there’s nothing between him and Jo.

“I went over to Bobby’s for lunch. She’s Ellen’s daughter. She’s like my little sister.”

“Who’s Ellen?”

“She’s- she’s kind of family. We’re trying to get Ellen and Bobby together.” Dean chuckles, realizing how childish that sounds said out loud. What is this, Parent Trap? “Parent Trap, adopted parents’ version,” he says before he can stop himself.

Cas frowns. “I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean bits his lip, smiling. “You’re very pop-culture-deprived, Cas.”

Cas blushes, looks away.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Dean adds quickly. “It’s just…” _kind of endearing_ , he thinks, but he’ll never say that out loud, “kind of funny, I guess. I can educate you, if you want.”

Novak looks up, lifting an eyebrow. “And how would you do that?”

 _Fuck, he looks hot like that_ , Dean thinks, caught a little bit off guard. He’s never seen the other making that expression. His mouth is dry for a moment, thoughts gone.

“Movie night,” he replies shortly. “If you want,” he adds quickly, shrugging like an idiot, trying to be causal, as if he didn’t care when he really, _really_ , does.

He’s not ready when Cas shrugs too and says, “okay.”

“Okay?”

Dean’s frowning. Cas shrugs again. It’s the weirdest set of interactions they’ve ever had.

“I- Yes. We could- we could watch something on Friday, if you want, after studying.”

_Is this real life?_

“Okay. Sure,” Dean replies, looking away and down at his almost forgotten chocolate bar.

 _It’s happening_ , his mind yells. He’s not sure _what’s_ happening, but it still is and it’s _good_.

“And, if you want, I can help you with that chemistry homework. It’s not due until next week, so if you have some free time over the weekend, I could lend you a hand.”

Dean looks up and stares for a moment. Cas looks like a deer caught in the headlights, which is not common. He blushes and looks away, breaks a piece of his candy and takes it to his mouth. It’s sweet to see him… nervous? Cas, _nervous_? He usually just looks cool and collected, although you can tell that he will leave as soon as possible, he likes to be left alone… So what’s changed? Why is he offering to spend time together? Has Castiel Novak finally had enough of being a loner?

 _Maybe he likes you_ , his brain whispers with a span of hope, but Dean drowns that thought as soon as possible. It can spread like a wild fire, hope. It’s a dangerous thing. Dean prefers to leave with low expectations, it’s safer.

“Cas, that’d be great, thank you. I’m- I’m usually not _that_ shitty,” Dean says, trying to save part of his pride.

Cas nods. “It’s not too bad,” he tells Dean with a polite smile.

“Yes, it is,” he replies, giving him a look that told him to cut the crap and be honest, as he half-smiles.

Cas smiles back but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. He takes his book out and a piece of pie, then lays back on the couch. Dean knows this is when the conversation stops, Cas is in the studying-zone right now and will be for a couple of hours. It’s alright, he doesn’t care, the silence between them is comfortable, natural.

Dean lays back too, kicks his shoes off and puts his feet on the small coffee table. He looks at Cas over the corner of his eyes for a moment; he’s got his eyebrows knitted together softly in concentration, as always, but is wearing a constant, small smile. Dean thinks he looks… _happy_. It warms his heart and he opens his book but for a moment he can’t quite concentrate.

_Shit, I like him. I like him a lot._


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel’s weekend is mostly composed by a comfortably dull succession of familiar events. He wakes up early on Saturday morning, as he’s done for years, and has breakfast with Michael and Lucifer in the dinning room. None tries to start a conversation, their interactions can be narrowed down to simple requests such as ‘can you pass the sugar, please?’. Anna doesn’t join them, she doesn’t wake up before 10 am on weekends. Afterwards, he goes to his dad’s office to continue reading his book. As he sits down in the fancy armchair and opens his book, his mind momentarily goes to Dean Winchester.

 _“I’ve read that book. It’s pretty cool. Let me know what you think about it when you finish it,”_ Dean had told him. He’d sounded sincere.

For some odd reason, he can’t wait to finish the book and discuss it with Dean. He rarely ever gets to talk to anyone about them, or tries to, to be honest with himself. Sometimes Michael or Lucifer would make comments about them, if they disliked or liked them, and every time they reminded their younger brother to be careful with their father’s belongings. Just a couple of times someone at school had said something to Cas about the books too, but the conversation always died out as quickly as it had begun.

 _You never try to talk to anyone,_ he tells himself. _No wonder people stopped trying to approach you._

 _“You’ve got to make an effort with people, Cas,”_ Gadreel used to tell him, but Cas had run out of patience and energy to engage in human interactions. Now, for some reason, he was getting back in the game of making friends... Or reliable acquaintances, whatever. He was losing miserably, but here he was, trying again.

Balthazar, Gabriel and Gadreel arrive in the morning, Cas isn’t sure when, he’s too invested in his book. It’s not unusual for them to visit on the weekends, although Gabriel had spent a considerable part of the summer away after what had happened between Lucifer and Cas. He’d taken Cas in for a month, Lucifer wasn’t really sorry to have his younger brother gone for the holidays. Gabe had offered him to stay permanently, to support him financially during his last year of school, but Cas had declined the offer and returned home eventually. He knew Michal and Lucifer wouldn’t agree to this and he didn’t want to cause anyone any more trouble, so he let it go, came home and kept his mouth shut, pretended nothing had happened.

All siblings but the two older ones sit together in the living room, catching up with each other’s lives, sharing stories. Balthazar and Gadreel are doing great at school, Gabe’s shop is running smoothly. They all seem happy with their lives away from their former home, and Cas can’t wait to also get out of there. He wonders if he will also return for weekend visits once he’s free. He probably will, although he can’t feel bad at the thought of never seeing Lucifer again.

Lunch is a little bit awkward. Gabriel is still not in very good terms with Lucifer and Michael (he blames the eldest for not intervening, thinks it was his job to protect Castiel). Balthazar and Gadreel agree with him, but they have let the subject go after Cas had asked them to do so. The conversation is now more superficial, revolves mostly around school and everyone’s grades, and the constant reminder that they have to honor the family, live up to the name.

“Don’t embarrass us,” Michael tells Balthazar, whose history of sleeping around has given him a bit of a reputation (which he is proud of).

“I wouldn’t dare,” Balthazar replies, a smug grin plastered across his face.

In the afternoon, they ditch Michael and Lucifer and go the movie theater. Gabe practically has to drag Cas out of the house.

“Jesus, Cas, you need to get out more,” he tells him, Cas’ book now tightly secure in Gabriel’s hands.

“I go out,” Cas states flatly as he follows them to the car.

“Yeah? Where?”

“I- I go to Dean Winchester’s house twice a week.”

Balthazar huffs, turning around with a rather insulting surprised look on his face. “Really? You’re friends with Dean Winchester?”

“Well, no. We’re study partners.”

“Aha! That makes more sense,” Balthazar teases him.

“That doesn’t count, Cas,” Gabriel tells him.

“But we could be friends,” Cas says, mostly to himself.

“Then why aren’t you?” Anna asks him.

Cas just shrugs. An honest answer to that would be because he’s a bit of an asshole who hasn’t given Dean the chance at all. Or because he’s afraid of trying and failing, _again_.

“Hey, just… Don’t tell Lucifer about Dean,” he tells their siblings as they pay for their tickets. They all share a grim look and nod silently. He knows everyone’s thinking about the past events of that summer and he feels like an asshole for ruining the mood. The teasing and the smiles have been replaced by a tense silence. Thankfully, they go inside just minutes after and the silence is replaced by a movie.

On Sunday, they go to church. Gadreel keeps elbowing Balthazar to stop him from falling asleep. Gabriel rolls his eyes here and there, checks the time. He doesn’t even go to church anymore. But Cas pays attention, and when it’s time to pray, he prays for forgiveness, as always, as Lucifer had told him to do. He thinks that perhaps his loneliness is a punishment, for being into men. Maybe Lucifer is right, maybe it is wrong, maybe that’s why nobody likes him.

 _Dean seems to like you enough to be friends,_ he thinks. _But would he like you if he knew you liked men?_

He remembers Dean’s comments about girls on Friday. Of course, everyone assumes he’s straight. If Dean knew he wasn’t, would he feel uncomfortable being alone with him? He didn’t look like the homophobic type.

 _He’s kind,_ he thinks. _Isn’t that good enough a quality for a friend?_

For some reason, Dean Winchester seems to want to befriend him, so why not take the chance?

On their way back home from church, he sees Dean drive by in his car. Sam and another young girl are with him. He feels an inexplicable span of jealousy. Other friends, maybe a girlfriend, he doesn’t know. What he’s jealous about, he isn’t sure, but it makes him want to make more of an effort, know more about Dean and stop being an outsider from everyone’s lives.

Dean seems distracted over the week. Cas tries to catch his eyes and greet him, but Dean frowns as he walks from class to class, scratches the back of his head as he tries to concentrate in class, so Cas leaves him alone until Wednesday. That morning he packs the candy Gabriel brought him from his store and gave him in secret, buys pie in his way to Dean’s and sits patiently while he waits for Dean to make tea. He doesn’t take his books out right away. He’s going to try to make conversation this time, at least for a couple of minutes.

He notices their math and chemistry workbooks opened in the coffee table along with random papers here and there. He leans in a takes a look; Dean’s chemistry exercises don’t seem to be coming along easily. There are entire parts crossed out, question marks here and there and some results are wrong, though not by too far.

A cup of tea is placed in front of him. He looks up to see Dean looking a little embarrassed, glancing at his homework for a moment before he looks away. Cas puts the papers down, wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have spied on Dean’s homework.

Dean sits down next to him.

“How was your weekend, Cas? Had a good time with your brothers?”

Cas frowns. “How did you-”

“I saw you coming out of the movies,” Dean shrugs, sips some coffee.

“Oh. It was fine,” Cas shrugs. “That reminds me…”

He opens his backpack and drops a small pile of candy over the table. Dean sits up, grinning. He smiles back, taking it as a win. Well, most people like candy, it’s hard not to get it right there, but still, he did something nice for Dean, for a potential friend, for once.

“From Gabriel, am I right?”

“Yes. It’s too much for me, I thought I’d share it with you,” he smiles. He feels slightly embarrassed confessing he thought about Dean. _You’re being ridiculous,_ he tells himself.

“Thanks, Cas. I kinda need the fuel,” Dean says before he opens a chocolate bar.

Indeed, Cas had noticed the other boy seemed overly tired that week. Can’t be easy to work, have football practise, homework and perhaps a girlfriend.

“How was your weekend?” Cas asks, looking down at the piece of candy he’s just picked up. He’s not even sure what it is. It’s another chocolate bar, he notices just now. He’s thinking about her, the girl she saw in his car, and he has no idea why. _Ridiculous,_ he thinks again.

“Fine,” Dean answers lazily. “Worked most of the time.”

Cas nods, and because he can’t help being curious, he says, “I saw you driving around. With, hmm, Sam and another girl.”

“Ah, yeah, Jo.” There’s a brief pause before he goes on, rather abruptly, “I went over to Bobby’s for lunch. She’s Ellen’s daughter. She’s like my little sister.”

 _She’s like my little sister._ Okay, so not a girlfriend. Why’s that satisfying? Well, he guesses it’s easier to befriend someone without a partner, they’re more available.

“Who’s Ellen?” he asks, that curiosity kicking in again. He wants to know more. For the first time in a long time, he’s actually interested.

“She’s- she’s kind of family. We’re trying to get Ellen and Bobby together.” Dean chuckles. “Parent Trap, adopted parents’ version.”

Cas frowns. Parent Trap? What’s that supposed to mean? “I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean bits his lip, smiling. “You’re very pop-culture-deprived, Cas.”

Cas blushes, looks away. Yes, again the odd one out, and always so evidently.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Dean adds quickly, a bit urgently. “It’s just… kind of funny, I guess. I can educate you, if you want.”

He looks up, lifting an eyebrow. “And how would you do that?” His brothers have been trying for _years_.

Dean stares for a moment, his lips parting. “Movie night,” he replies shortly. “If you want,” he adds quickly, shrugging. He’s giving Cas the chance to say no, he can tell, because Cas always says no, people expecting him to say no.

But not today. Today, he shrugs too and says, “okay.”

“Okay?” Dean repeats, frowning with confusion. Cas merely shrugs again.

 _I’m not good at this,_ he thinks nervously. What if Dean was just being polite and offered to get together because he thought Cas was going to say no anyway? _Don’t overthink this._

“I- Yes. We could- we could watch something on Friday, if you want, after studying,” he says, sounding cool and collected as always, but inside his heart is racing. He hasn’t asked anyone to hang out for years.

_Except for Tom, but we don’t think about him._

 “Okay. Sure,” Dean replies, looking away, but Cas feels reassured by the smile in his lips.

“And, if you want, I can help you with that chemistry homework. It’s not due until next week, so if you have some free time over the weekend, I could lend you a hand.”

Dean looks up and stares for a moment. Cas almost immediately regrets saying that, it’d been an impulse. He wanted to help, honestly, but perhaps it was too much, Dean probably didn’t want him around that much. He’d taken it too far, hadn’t he? He blushes under his stare and looks away, breaks a piece of his candy and shoves it to his mouth.

“Cas, that’d be great, thank you. I’m- I’m usually not _that_ shitty,” Dean says, sounding relieved.

Cas nods. “It’s not too bad,” he smiles at Dean. It really isn’t, he just seems to have some concepts wrong that are messing up with his calculations.

“Yes, it is,” Dean half-smiles, raising an eyebrow.

Cas refuses to say anything negative, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He smiles back, relishing in a weird but finally successful set of interactions with someone his age.

 _We’re hanging out. On Friday and on the weekend,_ he realises, smiling as he takes his book out, grabs a piece of pie and sits back on the couch that is now becoming familiar. It’s comfortable. Everything about that moment is comfortable; the silence, the company, the cozy small living-room, the friendship sprouting between them. He likes it. He feels an unfamiliar warmth spreading from his finger tips up his arms.

 _Is that what it feels like to belong?_ he wonders. _It’s nice._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry for the delay. I am aiming at the weekends, but I dedicated Saturday to the hubby. Anyway, this fic isn't coming along easily either, I'm not too pleased with it /:  
> Hope you guys are enjoying it though!

Dean closes the door behind Castiel and just stands there for a solid minute. He wants to throw his fists in the air and shout in victory, but because he is doing quick math of all the things he needs to do to actually be available to hang out with Cas on Friday and Sunday (because he will try to make him stay after they’re done with school work, of course), he quickly goes back to the couch and continues his math homework until it is completely done. He doesn’t double check it, he’s too tired, too done with that shit for today, and anyway he’s only aiming for a passing grade, needs no more than that. He doesn't even care that much about the grades, since he isn't applying for any university, but he has some dignity and doesn't want to fail all classes, especially not if Cas is offering to help him out.

“Wow, Dean, you’re really in the zone tonight,” Sam comments when he emerges from his room, surprised his older brother hasn’t called him to have dinner yet.

He jumps, as if he’s completely forgotten about Sam’s existence, and looks up with a bewildered expression. “Shit,” he exclaims, looking guilty, “I forgot about dinner!”

Sam chuckles. “It’s alright, Dean, I can make myself a salad. Want some?” Dean wrinkles his nose. His brother rolls his eyes. “Sandwich?” Dean nods before he gets back to his homework right. Sam observes for a moment looking up at him through his eyelashes as he throws lettuce and spinach into a bowl, cuts tomatoes. Dean seems to be try hard to do a good job when Cas is around. He likes that, likes to see Dean have some inspiration to try his best at school. If he gets good grades, he could get a scholarship, he hopes naively, not knowing Dean has no intentions of applying for any school. He’d like to see Dean go to college, maybe study to become a proper mechanic or an engineer. Sam could just stay with Bobby, he’s thought it through. Cas is a good influence in his brother, he thinks, already becoming fond of the quiet boy.

Dean is still slightly behind on his pile of homework so on Thursday evening he doesn't go to Bobby's after football practise so he can go home and study. He calls to let him know, feeling his muscles uncomfortable with guilt as he makes the call, but the old man tells him not to worry about it, to focus on school, brushing off the subject like it doesn’t matter, sounding a little relieved, in fact, which makes Dean feel even worse; Bobby still thinks he’s applying for college, doesn’t he?

Better not to think about that now, he’ll stress about telling his family he isn’t going later on, he could delay that conversation a couple of months if he stays away from the subject.

Even though he’s swimming in homework, the professors working them harder than ever that last year, and is slightly sleep deprived from the night before, he manages to stay in a good mood all Thursday morning, looking forward to Friday like he hasn’t looked forward for anything else in a long time. He smiles at Cas in the hallway, waves at him and all, and he actually gets a wave back from the boy. Cas seems a little unsure and awkward, like he’s never done that before, but there’s a brightness in his eyes that let Dean know it’s okay, he’s just shy, not unfriendly. That lifts his spirit more than anything else. His brain plays the image of a shy Cas with messy hair turning around to wave at him over and over his head. He looked particularly beautiful that morning, in Dean’s humble opinion.

_Doesn’t he always, though?_

“You’re in a good mood,” Benny pants next to him as the coach watches them run around the field. “You saw Cassie again?”

He sees his friend smirk from the corner of his eye. He’s not offended by the comment, not exactly, it’s perfectly normal that anyone would assume a girl has Dean Winchester busy and smiling, because for many years that was the case, but now it’s weird, he feels like he’s walking around with a secret, a _dirty_ secret that could be exposed at any moment, like someone could just smell it on him. It’s not really something he’s used to, especially when it comes to hiding something from Benny. It feels wrong, uncomfortable, not to mention nerve-wracking, Dean’s not a good liar, he’s never needed to lie, so he’s constantly afraid he’ll let it show, somehow, whoever stupid that sounds. He feels disgusted, playing along with that image of the womanizer hetero guy everyone thinks he is, as if he’s letting himself down, but what the hell is he supposed to say? That he’s happy cause he’s watching a movie tomorrow with Cas? That he is making a terrible effort not to look at Cas right now, as he runs around the field too? That’s right, he knows Cas runs on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Nope, no way he’s confessing to anything.

Dean shakes his head, forcing a smile, and runs faster, leaving Benny behind without making much of an effort. The coach pats him on the back with a proud smile when he finishes before the rest of his team with a comfortable distance.

“Good job, Winchester. You kept in good shape on the summer, son.”

He nods, resting his hands on his knees, trying to steady his breathing. Sweat runs down his forehead and over his eyes. He blinks the salty drops away.

“You know, if I make you captain of the team this year and you keep some decent grades, you’ve got a nice shot at a college football scholarship. It’ll be a lot of work, but I’m sure you can do it. What do you say? You up for the job, kid?”

 _Fuck_.

Dean swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry, but from nerves now. He can’t completely lie and say he hadn’t expected this offer at all, can’t deny either he’s slightly proud of himself or even tempted to say yes… But he can’t. He won’t. He’d made up his mind during the summer, working for hours on end on engines at Bobby’s. He’s good at it, he _likes_ the work, and he can make good money to send Sam to college wherever he chooses… And meanwhile he could stay here, be with his brother and the rest of his family, in the comfort of his home instead of somewhere else surrounded by strangers. If he stays, he can make sure Sam has food on his table and someone that will always cheer for him at science fairs. He’s not going to college, he’s actually relieved to have made a decision and he’s sticking with it.

That doesn’t mean telling the coach all this will be easy. He takes a quick glance around; his teammates are not far behind him, they’ll be with them soon.

Dean stands up straight, hands on his hips, trying to keep his voice steady as he speaks. “Thank you for the offer, sir… But I think Benny would be a better captain. I’ve a job, sir, and I’ve got to look after my brother, my dad travels a lot… I just don’t think I’ll be able to give the team my full attention. But Benny will. I know he really wants it.”

The coach stares back at Dean for a moment. Obviously, this isn’t the reaction or the response he’d been expecting. “Why don’t you sleep on it, Dean?” he tells him, voice soft, almost pleading. He’s never called Dean by his first name. He looks at him with a little bit a pity, and though he knows the coach means well, he hates it when people look at him that way. He hates that people know his dad’s never around. He hates the coach noticed his dad never once went to a cheer him at a game. He hates all those things and it just makes it worse when people know too. “Maybe you can make it work.”

“I won’t, sir,” Dean replies, no hesitation. He doesn’t want to sleep on it, doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Having the offer right there in the palm of his hands makes the back of his mind itch with forbidden desires. “I’m really sorry, coach.”

 _You made a decision, you’re sticking with it,_ he tells himself, swallowing through the inexplicable lump in his throat. Why is he letting this get to him _now_? _For Sam. You’re doing this for Sam._

“It’s okay, son,” the coach pats his shoulder once. He looks away, towards the other students. Dean can’t help the span of guilt watching the disappointed look on the man’s face. He likes the coach, he’s a decent man, works them hard but has always been nice to him. He hates to let him down, but he’d better prepare for it; Dean’s going to let a whole bunch of people down this year. Isn’t that just the story of his life, though?

When he gets home after a quick stop to get the things he need to make pizza the following day, Dean gets started on his biology assignment and re-reads the necessary chapters for the chemistry homework that's causing him trouble. He still doesn't get where he is messing up, but at least the subject will be fresh in his mind when Cas explains it on Sunday and he won't look like a _complete_ idiot, hopefully. He finishes it and opens his notes on his Social Studies class. His eyes burn, he’s tired. Sam kicks him to keep him away a couple of times. His good mood is a little gone, infected with guilt and the anxiety of knowing there are upcoming discussions he’s going to have with his family. But Cas is coming tomorrow, and he tries to hang onto the idea that he’s going to have a great time with the boy that he so stupidly has become smitten with. This is all he can allow himself, the one thing he can be selfish with. He won’t go to college, will have a mediocre job and life forever, but pizza with Cas, he can have that, at least once, and he’s going to enjoy every minute of it.

It’s finally Friday and with that Dean’s good mood returns. He has a class with Cas and greets him all the way from his desk at the front of the class. Blue eyes meet his, a little surprised. It’s the first Dean’s ever addressed him like that in front of people, but he’s shameless with excitement. Anyway, people know they’re together in an assignment, so no biggie, no need to make up a reason why they’re talking. Cas smiles, then looks down, concentrating in his book again until the professor arrives. Dean likes that, bringing up a smile on the other boy, it makes him feel ridiculously proud since no one else makes Cas smile.

When they go to Dean’s after class, it’s business as usual. Cas brings another pie, which Dean is grateful for because he is _still_ running low on money and just yesterday he’d had to choose between getting cheese for the pizza or getting snacks for them. No chance of getting pepperoni for the pizza, unfortunately, it was out of his budget just this once. He’s a little embarrassed about it and crosses his fingers, hoping Cas won’t mind. Pizza with cheese and tomatoes on top, it should be fine, he makes a great tomato sauce too, Sam always compliments it. The pathetic ordeal that is their economic situation helps him snap out of his guilt and stay firm with the choices he’s made; he needs to work, he really does. This is the right thing to do.

Cas is quiet, very quiet, but Dean is comfortable in their silence. He doesn’t ask many questions, which he is grateful for, he doesn’t like to explain himself or his lame life. He hates when people look at him with pity. He can tell exactly when people start to feel sorry for him and realise their lives aren’t as bad as they’d thought. He hates it. He hates his life but only _he_ is allowed to do so. He likes that Cas never looks at him like that.

Dean finishes his chapter, closes the book and sighs. Cas is looking up at him, hesitating. He waits for Dean to say something, he can tell.

“Well,” he starts, “there’s that. Finished. And you?”

“I’m finished as well.”

Dean nods, biting the inside of his cheeks to supress a smile. They’re looking at each other, there’s no real obligation to be there sitting together but they still are. Cas is there because he really wants to. For just a little while, that’s enough to make Dean happy.

“Okay, so, let’s get started with the pizza dough,” Dean tells him as he gets up and walks to the kitchen. “It needs to rise for a while before we actually put it on the oven.”

“W-what?”

He looks over his shoulder to see Cas standing awkwardly in the living-room.

“We’re cooking?” Novak asks him. “I thought we were ordering.”

“If it’s okay with you, I brought everything we need to make pizza.”

Cas doesn’t look too convinced.

“I promise my pizza is pretty damn good, Cas.”

Dean smiles at him and Castiel starts to walk towards him.

“I don’t doubt your cooking skills, Dean,” he says, and Dean just loves the way the other says his name, “but I do doubt my own. They are… inexistent.” He blushes as the same time he offers an apologetic smile, standing next to him with his back straight as usual, looking all formal in Dean’s old kitchen. The contrast of his formal clothes and the room’s old decorations is a little funny.

“That’s okay, I’ll guide you through it. Take a knife, first drawer, and slice the tomatoes, please.”

Cas nods. Dean looks at him up and down for a moment, and decides to give Cas an apron. Dean’s t-shirts cost like 5 dollars, but Cas’ sweater looks expensive, he doesn’t want to risk covering it in flour or tomato sauce. Cas puts it on, tying it behind his neck and back obediently, only to frown when he realises Dean’s not wearing one even though he’s started working with the flour, which is getting all over the place very quickly.

“I feel slightly ridiculous, why am I the only one wearing an apron?” he asks, frowning with seriousness. It makes Dean crack up, the sight is surreal. He _does_ look a little funny with his mother’s ancient apron made of some _awful_ floral pattern. Neither Dean nor John had ever had the heart to throw it away, no matter how tasteless it was.

“Well, look at my clothes,” Dean says, pointing at himself, then at Cas, “and look at your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing’s wrong with your clothes, they’re just- you know, fancier. I don’t mind getting mine dirty.”

“So I have to wear the ridiculous apron?” Cas lifts an eyebrow, but the corners of his lips are curved up.

“Hey,” Dean scolds him, but smiles too, “watch your language, that’s my _mom’s_ ridiculous apron, okay?”

“You can’t play the dead parent card with me, Dean, I am an orphan, remember? My entire house is a mausoleum.”

Dean huffs. No one’s ever talked to him about his dead mother before. It’s a very delicate subject for him, but it’s weird, somehow refreshing, to have someone _not_ treat him like he’s going to break at the mention of his mother.

“Your house is far from a mausoleum, it’s pretty great.”

Cas shakes his head as he cuts tomatoes, following Dean’s orders. “To outsiders, it is. But for my brothers and I… The house has been the same since they died. It’s like a museum of their lives.”

“I know the feeling; my dad won’t let me change a thing around here either. The funny thing is, I’m not allowed to make changes but he can’t stay around for long because it reminds him too much of my mom. I’ll never get that about him. He doesn’t want to move on but he can’t live without her either.”

There’s silence for a moment. It’s more than he’d meant to share, more than he tells most people, but it doesn’t feel wrong to share that with Cas. He _wants_ to share, and he is happy to be getting to know the other young man as well. The good, the bad, the things in between, he wants it all with Cas.

“Is he gone a lot?” Castiel asks, his eyes never leaving the tomatoes. Dean’s never leave the dough he’s working on.

“Yeah, he’s been gone for quite a while now.”

“And do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” Dean confesses, and he’s surprised at how fast the replies. Normally he’d say he doesn’t. He doesn’t _want_ to miss him but sometimes he can’t help it. A part of Dean still wants John at home and wished the man wanted to be there too. “But then when he’s around… It’s not very good.”

Cas nods. Dean eyes him quickly; he doesn’t see the pity with which people normally react. He looks solemn, but calm, comfortable. “Sometimes I wish my brothers left more often. Michael and Lucifer, I mean. Some people you like more when they’re away.”

Dean understands that, that’s exactly how he feels about his dad most of the time. When he’s away, he can pretend he doesn’t know their relationship sucks. He can miss John when he doesn’t remember what it’s like to _actually_ have him there, unhelpful and gloomy, drinking everyday. It’s easier not to let him down too, when he’s not there to not give Dean his approval.

“Yeah, I agree… I thought you got along with your siblings, Cas.”

“I do. But Michael and Lucifer…” Cas’ mouth forms a thin line. He hesitates.

“Yeah, they look a bit… intimidating.”

Cas huffs and nods. “They are,” he mumbles.

That’s something Dean can’t relate to and he’s grateful for that. Sam is his everything, and probably the kindest kid he knows. He can’t imagine what it’d be like if he was any different.

“I am grateful for all they do for me,” Cas adds quickly, looking up at Dean with a bit of guilt of his eyes. “I just… I wish things were different.”

 _Cas, always the nice guy, can’t stand to talk remotely bad of anyone, can he?_ Dean wonders what kind of stuff happens at his house that he doesn’t know about, that probably no one knows about. What would it be like to be raised by Michael and Lucifer? They didn’t look like a fun bunch, he can’t imagine them being affectious either. Were the rest of his brothers? Did someone tuck him in at night when he was just a kid like Dean did for Sam? John hadn’t been a joy to be around either (and still wasn’t), but then he’d started to leave a lot when Dean showed that he could survive without him and keep Sam alive with him, and Bobby would make them dinner most nights until he stopped fearing Dean would set the house on fire. He’d practically raised the two of them, and as far as the young Winchester concerned, he was more of a father figure than John.

Dean nods. “Me too, Cas.”

The dough is ready and Dean gives it a proud pat. Cas gives the sauce he’d been working on, following Dean’s instructions, an uncertain glance. He doesn’t seem very convinced by what he’s accomplished.

“It’ll be fine, Cas,” he assures him, gives him a pat on the shoulder before he can help himself. He feels his hand hitching where he’s just touched Castiel. He wishes he could leave the hand permanently there. Cas, in the other hand, looks momentarily down at his shoulder, a little taken aback, but the expression turns into one of content quickly. “So, I was thinking, while the dough rises, we could go to the store and rent a movie. Do you mind if Sam comes with us? He wanted to watch a movie too.”

Cas shakes his head, smiling kindly, just the way Dean loves. And it’s that expression, really, that had him falling for Novak in the first place. “Not at all. I think I like Sam.”

“Really?” Dean scratches his forehead. His hands are covered with flour. “Sometimes my friends don’t want the little brother hanging around with us.”

But Cas shrugs, still smiling. _Of course, he’s not like most people. He’s special._ Dean smiles to himself, running a hand nervously through his hair as he feels the classic butterflies in his stomach. It’s unfamiliar and a little dizzying, he’s never felt this way before.

Cas chuckles. “Dean, you still have flour in your hands,” he reminds him, then reaches to run his hand through Dean’s short hair, trying to get the flour out. Dean freezes, leaning into the touch, then blushes and nearly runs his hands through his hair again, a habit he does when he’s nervous, but Castiel smacks his hand, shaking his head, still laughing. “Good Lord, Dean, wash your hands first!”

Dean smiles all the way to the bathroom. He feels light, all guilt and concerns forgotten for a while. He knocks on Sam’s door and opens it at his brother’s queue. “Hey, wanna come pick a movie with us?”

Sam eyes him for a moment, then smirks. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you two alone?”

Dean’s smile drops and his cheeks turn red. Sam chuckles. “Shut up,” Dean hisses, looking around to make sure Castiel is nowhere close. “Are you coming or what?”

Sam nods, his shoulders moving up and down as he laughs.

“Don’t embarrass me, man,” Dean pleads, observing his younger brother as he puts his shoes on.

“When have I ever?” Sam replies with a cheeky grin. Dean can think of a couple of times.

Castiel is still in the kitchen, right where Dean left him, watching the dough slowly rise with fascination. He’s taken the apron off, folded it carefully and left it over the table. He can imagine the boy gently folding it over, once, twice, treating his mother’s hideous apron with nothing but respect, however ridiculous it is, because Cas gets just how important it is.

“Shall we?” Dean asks, gesturing towards the door. Novak nods and follows the two of them to the living room, but makes a quick stop to take his coat out of his backpack. Dean watches him put on a trench-coat. Sam frowns; it’s too big a coat for Cas and doesn’t really go with the rest of his clothes, but he recognises it right away, having seen the other wear it for _years_. Castiel treats that coat with nothing but gentleness, putting it over his shoulders slowly, then burying his hands on the pockets with a content smile. He looks comfortable, at home with just the coat on.

 _He looks happy,_ Dean thinks, his heart swelling with affection.

Sam leads the way, walking in front of Dean, talking animatedly with Cas. He asks his new friend what kind of movie he wants to see and Castiel just shrugs, saying he hasn’t really need many movies.

“I don’t watch TV at home,” he tells Sam, “and I only go to the movies when my brothers ask me to go with them, when they visit. Anna… she’s busy, she goes out a lot. I spend most of my time reading.”

“Cool, me too,” Sam agrees with a nod, “but Dean and I watch a lot of movies. We always watch something on the weekend, you should join us. If it’s Dean’s pick, it’s probably some old western, but I pick the good ones.”

Dean scoffs. “Excuse me, are you saying old westerns _aren’t_ good?”

“No, not at all,” Sam says, but he’s not even trying to hide the edge of sarcasm in his voice.

“Okay, you know what? I was going to let you pick the movie tonight, but I don’t think you deserve it anymore.”

They keep bickering about who has the best taste all the way to the store. Cas looks back and forwards between them, listening in silence, a constant smile plastered in his lips along with a look of amusement. They take forever to pick a movie. Dean doesn’t want to choose a western, now he feels slightly self-conscious about it, but he still prefers to pick an old movie while Sam insists they should watch Star Wars, but Cas doesn’t seem entirely convinced by the plot. In the end they pick Harvey, a movie from the 50’s that catches Dean’s eye because there’s a giant bunny in the cover next to a man, for some reason. They walk back, talking and laughing, asking Cas if he’s seen this or that movie. He hasn’t seen any famous franchise or most movies ever, really, except for the second movie of The Lord of the Rings, which he didn’t understand because he hadn’t seen the first one, but his brothers had insisted in taking him with them.

Dean makes quick work of the pizzas when they’re home. Only half an hour later, he’s taking the pizzas out of the oven, putting three slices for each of them in their plates and then Cas and Dean sit together on the couch, while Sam produces a bean bag from his room and sits in front of them. Sam turns the lights off and puts the movie in the DVD player Bobby got them years ago for Christmas. Cas sits straight, plate on his lap as he takes a bite while Dean sits back, his feet on the coffee table as usual. He watches his friend’s expression for a moment, holding his breath, hoping the cheap cheese he bought isn’t too bad for Castiel’s fancy paladar. He lets a breath out when the other sighs and smiles.

“You were right, you’re a very good cook, Dean,” he tells him with a wide smile. “This is a very agreeable pizza.”

_Mental note: Cas likes junk food a lot._

“Very agreeable,” Dean repeats, smirking.

“It’s a compliment,” Cas says, tone grave and serious. Somehow, he still manages to look amused.

“Oh, I know, Cas, I know. You’re easier to read than you think.”

“Really?” Cas tilts his head. “I’ve always found that people are… uncomfortable… in my presence, sometimes.”

“You’ve got to find the right friends, that’s all,” Dean shrugs and turns around to watch the movie. It’s started.

His arm brushes against Cas as his friend lies back to watch the movie too. All is good, too good and too easy and Dean can see the red lights flashing everywhere as he’s driving at a hundred kilometres per hour down a road headed to a point of no return where he will be hung up on Cas until the end of times. It would have been easier if he has turned out to be an asshole, but he isn’t, he’s everything Dean wanted him to be and more, and he’s falling in love embarrassingly easy and fast. But you don’t choose who you love or when you fall in love, and even if he did, it felt too good to stop, so he just watches the movie, stealing glances on Castiel’s direction from time to time when he can hear him laugh. Dean knows he doesn’t laugh often and it is music to his ears. It’s his mission to produce that sound out of him as often as he can. Even if the other never returns his feelings, Dean will make sure Cas has a great last year at school and a friend he can always count on.


	10. Chapter 10

Cas leaves Dean’s house with the strangest feelings of utter peace. He stops next to his car, the keys in his hands, no hurry at all to return home for the first time. A smile ventures into his lips, an unfamiliar excitement making his heart race. He’s done it, he’s asked Dean to hang out and not just to study, and he’d said yes. And who knows, maybe on Sunday they could do something else if they finish Dean’s homework early. He’s no idea exactly what they’re doing on Friday, Dean just mentioned something about movies and pizza. He’s no objections, no complaints, he’s just glad he’s finally (kind of) made a friend. Is it official, _are_ they friends already? How long does people wait before they start referring at one another as friends?

Walking up the front steps leading up to the front door, the lightness he feels slowly starts to go away. How strange it is to feel so out of place, so alert, in your own home, he thinks. Soft music comes from Michael’s office. He walks up to his room, leaves his backpack and then goes back downstairs to the kitchen. His eldest brother is there, preparing tea.

“Good evening, Cas,” he says, looking up from the stack of papers his holding as he waits for the water to heat up.

“Hello, Michael. How was work?” Cas asks, polite as ever, barely any trace of real affection or interest in their tones. It’s repeated conversations they’ve had over and over again through the course of the years to fill the silence, but nothing meaningful ever comes out of them.

“It was a very productive way,” Michael smiles with satisfaction, “we’re doing very well.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

“Thank you, brother. How was your day? Why are you home so late?”

 _It isnt’ late,_ Cas thinks, the comment bothering him slightly. It’s his own fault his brother noticed his absence, his life is so predictable.

“I was doing an assignment with a classmate.”

“Oh, that’s fine then.”

Cas narrows his eyes and looks away. Would there be an occasion in which it _wouldn’t_ be fine for him to be late? He’s almost 18, for Christ’s sake, he’s not a child anymore. _It’s your own damn fault,_ he blames himself again, _for always letting them treat you like one, for always been so compliant._ He swallows the bitter words, stays quiet. Where does that all resentment come from, anyway? Why are those thought coming to him now?

“Call your sister to dinner, Cas. Donna made some excellent pork with brussels sprouts,” Michael orders him, offering another smile. Castiel nods and walks away, sighing internally. He wonders what Dean’s having for dinner. Surely not brussels sprouts.

He reads for a couple of hours after dinner. It’s quite late by the time he finishes the book. He closes it, feeling an odd melancholy as he does every time he finishes a book. The young man sits on the edge of his bed, waiting for something that is never going to happen. He is never going to go to his father and ask him what he thought of the book. Did he like it? What was his favorite part? What if Cas was choosing books his dad hadn’t liked? Did that even matter? Cas had liked it. Would he like it less if his father hadn’t enjoyed it as much?

 _Why do you need the approval of a dead person?_ he asks himself, feeling a little pathetic. _Just ask Dean. He’s read it._

He walks down the impressive, wooden stairs on the tip of his toes. His siblings must be sleeping by now. In his father’s office, Castiel puts the book back exactly where he got it from. He looks around, searching for a new book. He finds one that isn’t in a too bad shape. Cas reads the tittle: Ordinary People, by Judith Guest. He turns it over, reads the plot summary. It’s something about a family dealing with the loss of a loved one, a kid handling depression. It’s probably not a cheerful read, but somehow it catches his attention and he decides to keep it. He turns on his heels and jumps when he sees Lucifer standing by the door. He’s still wearing his suit, probably just about now arrived home. They look at each other, but neither says anything. Cas, the good obedient boy he is, nods respectfully to acknowledge his brother’s presence, then Lucifer walks away without saying a word. It leaves Cas feeling small, worthless.

The following morning, he’s distracted. He hasn’t been distracted for a long time. What is it with him lately? Why is he so rattled all of a sudden? As if in queue, Dean waves at him from across the hallway. He seems to be in a good mood. It takes him a moment to react, to wave back. Dean turns around and disappears through the crowd, smiling as he talks to Benny. Cas smiles to himself, just for a moment. That friendly greeting, for some reason, makes his day a little nicer.

After school, he goes for his usual run around the field. He runs for about 40 minutes, it’s about the only workout he doesn’t hate, the only thing he’s willing to do to keep fit (or as fit as his body allows him, anyway, he’s still got a lot of growing up to do, in his opinion). He sees Dean running with the football team, leaving them behind with a comfortable distance as he hurries along. Benny tries to catch up with him buy fails. The captain pats his back when Dean finishes first. Cas wonders if he will get to be captain of the team this year, he deserves it.

When he goes home, it takes him only an hour to be up to date with his homework, then lays on his bed and starts to read. It’s a good book, he can tell right away, he likes it, likes the way the author seems to be in his head telling the story. And it’s a sad, like he had expected, but he devours it, reading word after word very quickly until the words are a mess in his memory, and when Anna knocks on his door to tell him dinner is ready, he jumps out of bed like he’s been caught doing something indecent.

“I called you twice, Cas,” Anna tells him. She sounds a little annoyed. “If you don’t come now, Lucifer’s going to put your dinner away.”

_Of course he is._

They eat in silence. It’s stupid to compare himself with a kid with depression, but he feels like the character in the book, a bit of a stranger in his own home, feeling watched all the time by the rest of the inhabitants. Castiel has felt this way for a long time, only made worse every time one of his brothers moved out. With them it had always been clear he was odd, but Gabriel, Baltz and Gadreel had always embraced his weirdness, laughed about it but not cruelly. The people that were left here now… They didn’t like him to be odd, it wasn’t charming but annoying to them instead. Maybe it’s not the building that makes a home, but the people, he wonders… And the people who had made this his home were gone now.

He stays up reading. He usually doesn’t, he usually goes to sleep everyday at the same hour, but he can’t put the book down. During the night, he doesn’t get much sleep, his mind is awake with a thousand thoughts but he can’t make them out, they all run through his mind too quickly. He’s vey tired on the morning. When Dean’s voice reaches his ears from the front of the class, a simple but loud “hey, Cas!”, he looks up, taken aback. Dean smiles at him easily, effortlessly. He always has a smile for anyone that needs it. Cas smiles back and looks back. He wonders if he should have said something too, but Dean doesn’t seem too troubled about his silence. In fact, he never is, which Castiel really likes about him. He just lets Cas _be_ , never makes him apologise for the way that he is.

He makes a stop at the bakery shop again before he drives to Dean’s, gets another pie for his friend-in-the-making. They fall into what seems now a routine; Cas sits on the couch, Dean makes coffee and tea, and they read for a while before they talk about each other’s chapters. Though this time, when Cas finishes his book, he doesn’t say anything. He isn’t sure what to do. What’s the procedure now that they have agreed to spend time together after studying? Does the hanging out start right away? He decides to just wait for Dean to finish his own chapter.

“Well,” Dean says as he closes his book once he is done, sighing, “there’s that. Finished. And you?”

“I’m finished as well.”

They look at each other. Dean has a strange, expectant look upon his face. Cas doesn’t know what to do, but he is used to waiting for the other boy to guide him, so he does just that.

“Okay, so, let’s get started with the pizza dough,” Dean tells him as he gets up and walks to the kitchen. “It needs to rise for a while before we actually put it on the oven.”

Cas stands up, frowns in confusion, but doesn’t move forward, like he can avoid cooking if he just stays away from the oven.

_Oh boy, no. Does he expect me to cook?_

“W-what?”

Dean looks at him over his shoulder.

“We’re cooking?” he asks. “I thought we were ordering.”

“If it’s okay with you, I brought everything we need to make pizza.”

Cas doesn’t know what to say. He can’t say no, Dean’s already bought everything apparently, but he’s about to make a fool of himself.

_This is what happens when you live a sheltered life with a housekeeper, you don’t know how to make something as simple as pizza._

“I promise my pizza is pretty damn good, Cas.”

Dean smiles at him and it gives Cas the confidence to get into the kitchen. It can’t be that bad, if Dean knows what he’s doing. The memory of the microwave at his house burning on fire when he was 8 and had tried to heat up tomato sauce for pasta in a tin can is forever engraved in his memory and the reason why his eldest brothers vanished him from the kitchen ever since. He’s nearly set the kitchen on fire and a decade after, he wasn’t still forgiven.

“I don’t doubt your cooking skills, Dean, but I do doubt my own. They are… inexistent.”

He’s sure he’s blushing but he can’t help it. He wonders if Dean thinks he’s an idiot rich kid that has always expected someone else, like a housekeeper, to cook for him… And while it’s _technically_ true, it really isn’t his choice, he’s simply _not allowed_ to cook.

“That’s okay, I’ll guide you through it. Take a knife, first drawer, and slice the tomatoes, please.”

He nods and opens the first drawer, grabs the first knife he sees. Just as he is starting to cut tomatoes, Dean hands him an apron. It’s an old thing, that is quite true, with a rather ugly floral pattern. His mother’s, he figures, one of those things one can never bring himself to throw away. He gets it, he has worn his father’s trench-coat for years, even though it’s too big for him and don’t go with his clothes.

But after a couple of minutes he notices Dean has no intentions of putting one on too, even though he’s making a mess with the flour.

“I feel slightly ridiculous, why am I the only one wearing an apron?” he asks, frowning with seriousness.

Dean chuckles gently. Cas has to fight back a grin of his own.

“Well, look at my clothes,” Dean says, pointing at himself, then at Cas, “and look at your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing’s wrong with your clothes, they’re just- you know, fancier. I don’t mind getting mine dirty.”

“So I have to wear the ridiculous apron?” Cas lifts an eyebrow, but he’s still fighting that smile.

“Hey,” Dean scolds him, but smiles too, “watch your language, that’s my _mom’s_ ridiculous apron, okay?”

“You can’t play the dead parent card with me, Dean, I am an orphan, remember? My entire house is a mausoleum.”

Dean huffs.

“Your house is far from a mausoleum, it’s pretty great.”

Cas shakes his head as he cuts tomatoes, following Dean’s orders. Pretty great, yeah, if you haven’t lived there your entire life. Every piece of furniture and decoration has been on the same spot since their parents’ death, they’re not allowed to even change the photographs, update them. “To outsiders, it is. But for my brothers and I… The house has been the same since they died. It’s like a museum of their lives.”

He regrets saying it almost as soon as he finishes speaking. _Great topic for your first conversation, Cas,_ he scolds himself.

“I know the feeling; my dad won’t let me change a thing around here either,” Dean tells him. “The funny thing is, I’m not allowed to make changes but he can’t stay around for long because it reminds him too much of my mom. I’ll never get that about him. He doesn’t want to move on but he can’t live without her either.”

There’s a moment of silence. Cas regret disappears as Dean shares. They’re nothing alike yet they can understand each other very well. And Dean, he opens up to him so easily, it’s like they’ve been friends for a long time and not practically strangers.

He wants to know more, so he asks, “is he gone a lot?” His eyes never leave the tomatoes, giving Dean time to decide whether he wants to answer that or not. He does.

“Yeah, he’s been gone for quite a while now,” the other answers without hesitation. Is there anything he _wouldn’t_ tell Cas? And why does he trust him so much anyway? Is he like this with everyone?

“And do you miss him?”

Cas can’t imagine what it would feel like to have a parent that doesn’t want to be around. Did that hurt more than not having parents at all? Maybe, he thinks. He can’t understand how a parent could leave their children behind like that, grief or not.

“Sometimes,” Dean admits. “But then when he’s around… It’s not very good.”

That’s something he can understand, he feels the same way about his eldest brothers, something even with Anna too. She’s turning into a bit of a mean teen lately. It’s easier to get along better with them when they’re not around, when he doesn’t see the way they look at him, when his brothers are away on business trips or Anna and himself are too busy to see each other during the day. Castiel nods before he makes his own confession, “Sometimes I wish my brothers left more often. Michael and Lucifer, I mean. Some people you like more when they’re away.”

“Yeah, I agree… I thought you got along with your siblings, Cas.”

“I do. But Michael and Lucifer…”

Castiel stops talking, unwilling to speak ill of his siblings. _But Michael and Lucifer_ what _exactly? They work, they keep you fed and they pay the bills, they will pay for college, they have raised you and taken you to the doctor when you were sick,_ he argues with himself, feeling guilty now.

“Yeah, they look a bit… intimidating.”

Cas huffs and nods. “They are,” he mumbles, and that’s about the closest he can get to criticizing them. He looks up to Dean, feeling the need to explain himself, to not be that rich kid that whines about his life, about the people that took care of him when the obligation was thrown to them. No matter their wrongs, they did a lot of right and he’s been taught to be a good, grateful boy, and old habits die hard with him. “I am grateful for all they do for me,” he tells Dean. “I just… I wish things were different.”

Dean nods. “Me too, Cas.”

His friend (is he? Can he call Dean a friend already?) gives the dough a pat and smiles triumphantly. It looks good, Cas has to admit, unlike the sauce he’s been making. It looks like a bit of a mess. “It’ll be fine, Cas,” Dean assures him, gives him a pat on the shoulder. It’s stupid, but he looks down at his shoulder, still feeling the place where Dean touched him. It’s the first time in a long time that someone that isn’t his brothers touches him with some kind of affection.

 _It’d better be fine_ , he hopes, praying that he hasn’t spoiled it because the sauce if a _very_ important part of a pizza and he doesn’t want to ruin this for Dean, for them.

“So, I was thinking, while the dough rises, we could go to the store and rent a movie. Do you mind if Sam comes with us? He wanted to watch a movie too.”

Cas shakes his head while he smiles. He hasn’t seen Sam around a lot, but he seems like the kind of person he would like. Besides, he gives them plenty of time to work on the living room, it’s only fair that he would join them for dinner. “Not at all. I think I like Sam.”

“Really?” Dean scratches his forehead. His hands are covered with flour, some sticks to his skin. “Sometimes my friends don’t want the little brother hanging around with us.”

He merely shrugs, grinning as he watches the flour in Dean’s forehead. He’s no idea it’s there, has he? Who is he to tell Sam to stay in his room in his own house, anyway? His friend smiles back at him, then runs a hand through his hand, leaving flour all over it. This time he can’t help but laugh.

“Dean, you still have flour in your hands,” he reminds him, then reaches to run his hand through Dean’s short hair, trying to get the flour out. Dean let him, but as soon as Cas pulls away, his hand is going upwards again, towards his hair. Castiel smacks his hand, shaking his head, still laughing. “Good Lord, Dean, wash your hands first!”

While Dean goes to wash his hands and get Sam, he stays in the kitchen, cleaning the flour off the surface of the counter. He thinks again that he likes Dean’s house. He likes that it’s small and that you don’t have to tiptoe around it, that you can get flour over the furniture without getting death glares. He feels free to be a real person inside the building, and Dean’s welcoming spirit only adds to his comfort. He likes Dean too, very much, more than he would have ever dreamed. He’s so much more than he would have guessed, there are more layers to him that you can’t see at plain sight but he’s been invited to witness them. It surprises him how someone with so many obligations and responsibilities, someone that has experienced loss and stress, managed to remain so kind and cheerful. It only ever made Michael more serious and Lucifer colder.

He takes off the apron and folds it slowly, gently once, then again. He puts a hand over it, trying to imagine what Dean’s mom would have looked like on it. She was pretty, he could see from the pictures. Did she really like the apron, though? It was truly distasteful. Maybe that was its charm, he wonders as he places it on the table. It’s important to Dean, and that’s all that matter for him to treat it with respect. If anyone treated his father’s trench-coat any differently than he’d just treated the apron, it would pain him.

The dough is rising quickly and he watches it with fascination. Dean has made a wonderful work with it, it will probably taste wonderfully.

“Shall we?” Dean asks, gesturing towards the door, Sam standing next to him.

He nods, but goes to get his trench-coat out of his backpack before they leave. He always carries it around with him, afraid any of his siblings will reclaim it if he doesn’t keep a careful eye on it, though Michael had let him claimed it years ago. Ever since then, he’d worn it religiously. Castiel puts it on; it feels good even though it’s still too big for him. He hopes that the fabric won’t be too worn out by the time he’s old enough to fit into it appropriately as his father once did. His hands fall into the pockets. He falls engulfed in his dad’s essence, and calm and comfortable in the presence of the other two boys.

Sam walks next to him, leading the way, asking him what kinds of movies he likes to watch.

“I don’t watch TV at home,” he tells Sam, “and I only go to the movies when my brothers ask me to go with them, when they visit. Anna… she’s busy, she goes out a lot. I spend most of my time reading.”

“Cool, me too,” Sam agrees with a nod, “but Dean and I watch a lot of movies. We always watch something on the weekend, you should join us. If it’s Dean’s pick, it’s probably some old western, but I pick the good ones.”

Dean scoffs. “Excuse me, are you saying old westerns _aren’t_ good?”

“No, not at all,” Sam says. Cas thinks he detects an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

“Okay, you know what? I was going to let you pick the movie tonight, but I don’t think you deserve it anymore.”

The brothers keep arguing about movies all the way to the store. He doesn’t mind, he finds it slightly amusing. They sound a lot like Gabriel and Balthazar. He realises how much he misses his brothers. Why did they ever have to go? Why does anyone ever go?

He could have thought picking a movie was quick business, but not with the Winchesters. Sam tries to convince Cas to get on board with Star Wars, but the plot seems a little strange to him. How come so many species from all over the universe speak English? That just doesn’t make sense. Maybe he’ll watch it with them, eventually, but not tonight. After a while, Dean goes to him holding an old movie, black and white, from the 50’s. There’s a giant bunny in the cover, which his friend finds hilarious, apparently. He’s so excited about it, Cas has to say yes. During the way back, the brothers bombard him questions, _have you seen this or that movie?_ He hasn’t, most of the time. There’s just one TV in their house and it’s in the living room. His brothers watch the news a lot there, and he doesn’t like to disturb them, he stays in his own room a lot when he’s at home.

Once again, Dean and Cas are sitting together on the couch. It’s become a familiar spot, each has a corner of it assigned. Sam brings a bean bag from his room, sets it in front of the couch and turns the lights off before puts the movie on the DVD player while Dean hands them plates with pizza. He takes a bit and sighs; it _really_ is good, Dean had lived up to his word.

“You were right, you’re a very good cook, Dean,” he tells him with a wide smile. “This is a very agreeable pizza.”

“Very agreeable,” Dean repeats, grinning, an eyebrow lifted.

“It’s a compliment,” Cas assures him, just to be sure.

“Oh, I know, Cas, I know. You’re easier to read than you think.”

“Really?” Cas tilts his head. “I’ve always found that people are… uncomfortable… in my presence, sometimes.”

 “You’ve got to find the right friends, that’s all,” Dean shrugs and turns around to watch the movie. It’s started.

 _The right friends,_ he repeats in his mind as he leans back. So they _are_ friends? Yes, he thinks they are. It _feels_ like they are, and like they have been for a long time. There’s something about Dean, and even Sam, that feels natural and familiar, like he belonged there, the third wheel on the group, the not-so-odd one out now. It’s nice, it’s something he’s only ever felt with his three middle brothers, knowing those people _wanted_ you there, just the way you were. He just knows, right there and then, there are many more Friday movie nights to come with the Winchesters.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm changing the format for this chapter, what do you guys think? Is it too messy?  
> Hope you enjoy it!

The movie finishes and Sam turns the lights back on. He looks like he isn't sure whether the movie they have just seen was good movie or not.

"Come on, it was great!" Dean says before his brother has the chance to speak. "Did you like it, Cas?" he asks, turning around to look at his friend with eyes full of hope, as if Castiel's approval (or disapproval) of the movie will determine something important about their short friendship.

The dark-haired boy nods. "I found it very amusing."

Sam huffs a laugh, looking back and forth between the two boys on the couch. Dean has hearts on his eyes, how can Cas not tell his brother likes him? "It was... weird."

"Yes, _definitely_ , that's why it was so great!" Dean argues. If Castiel is any example to go by, one could say Dean likes weird things, weird people. "It was nothing like the garbage we have these days, they don't make movies like this anymore."

"It was very funny," Cas says. He looks serious though, his voice too grave for their age, you might think he's being sarcastic, but by now both Sam and Dean are used to that very frequent, sober expression in his face.

"It was hilarious!" Dean agrees with a grin.

Cas looks down at his watch and sighs. He doesn't want to go and doesn't feel like Dean is in any hurry to see him leave either, but his brothers are probably waiting for him at home, wondering where he is. They're not worried about him though, he is sure about that. "Well, I should go home. My brothers are probably wondering where I am."

"Oh," Dean's smile falters for just a moment before he composes his expression. Still, Cas catches the brief look of disappointment in his eyes. "You're leaving so early?"

"Yes, well, I will get in trouble if I don't."

Castiel feels stupid saying that out loud, fears the brothers will also think that about him. What is he, a ten years old boy that has to ask permission to hang out with his friends? But he has to, at some level, he should have told them where he was going. He also knows he can't tell them where he’s _really_ been, he doesn't want Lucifer to know he was at another boy's home. Not having friends made his life easier in that sense.

Thankfully, neither brother says anything. They don't mock him, they don't question him, and Cas relaxes, knowing he is in a judgment-free zone, probably for the first time in his life.

"Oh, okay. You know, if you ever want to stay the night, we've got space,” Dean says as he watches Cas gather his books and put them inside his backpack, along with his neatly folded trench coat.

"Perhaps next time," he tells Dean with a smile but he isn't sure how he could pull that off, what lie he could tell his brothers to cover up for the fact that he’s staying at another’s boy’s house for the night. Lucifer would be livid. And if he found out Dean’s dad is out of town as well… Castiel wants to fight his coward brain’s instincts that tell him to fall in line with what his brothers want from him, he wishes he could gather the courage to be more rebellious and tell them to mind their own business, but the memories of Lucifer's fist colliding with his cheek in painful strikes are surprisingly fresh in his thoughts, as if it had happened yesterday instead months ago now.

Dean walks Cas to the door. He feels light as a feather, _happy_ , truly happy, but sorry to see the other leave so soon anyway. If it were up to him, Castiel could stay forever. He leans against the door, hand on the doorknob as Cas walks towards him. "Well, I'll see you on Sunday, then?"

Cas nods once. "Should I come over after lunch?"

"I'll be back from Bobby’s at 2," Dean tells him.

"Alright, then."

They look at each other for a moment. If things were different, if Cas were a girl (and if Sam weren't standing right there too), Dean would be leaning in to kiss him. But things are what they are, so he just opens the door for Cas, who stays right where he is for a moment, looking out into the Dean’s dark front garden.

“Thank you,” he says shyly, his voice barely audible, avoiding Dean’s eyes on purpose. “I had a nice time.”

Dean makes a great effort not to just kiss the guy. He wonders, his heart aching a little, if this is the first time someone’s invited him over to watch a movie. Doesn’t anybody else like Cas the way he does? “Don’t mention it, Cas,” he tells his friend, holding back a wide grin. “We love to have you over, right, Sam?”

He looks back at his brother for support. Sam nods, smiling at Cas, who smiles back. He doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to walk away, he wishes he could stay the night, and then forever afterwards. How sad it was to feel he belonged here rather than in his own house, he thinks, but there’s something unknown inside his heart that longs to remain right where he is. He feels glued to the old wooden floor of Dean’s living room.

“Well, then, I’ll see you on Sunday,” Cas tells them.

Dean watches him walk away. Castiel opens the (ugly) fence and looks back for a moment, waves goodbye awkwardly before he gets lost in the night. _Adorable dork_ , Dean thinks affectionately.

"You have heart eyes, Dean," Sam teases him.

His brother blushes as he closes the door. "Shut up, Sam."

The younger Winchester laughs. "Why don't you ask him out?"

"He's not into guys, Sammy. It's not that easy."

"You said you've never seen him with girls either. Maybe he is just hiding, like you are."

"Hey, I am not _hiding_ ," he tells Sam but his brain instantly disagrees with him. _Of course you are_.

"Okay, so if it turned out Cas _did_ like boys, you'd go out on a date on public, make out with him on the movies like you did with Lisa?"

"How'd you even know about that?"

"The _entire_ town knows about that, Dean," Sam rolls his eyes. "You got kicked out of the place, remember? You're so gross. Anyway, you're avoiding my question."

Dean turns his back on his little brother, makes himself busy picking up the dirty plates from the coffee table. He can feel Sam's eyes on the back of his neck as he walks towards the kitchen.

"It’s not the same, I like to have my privacy with Cas. It feels more... I don't know, better."

"You feel more comfortable here cause nobody can _see_ you, Dean. But you don't need to hide, it's not wrong to be… like this."

“I know it’s not,” he says, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he leaves the plates on the sink. “I just… I don’t need to announce it to the world.”

“But if you love someone,” his brother continues relentlessly, “don’t you want the whole world to know and stuff like that?”

“Jesus, Sam, cut it out, this ain’t a romantic comedy.”

“Of course it isn’t, nobody makes romantic comedies with male gay couples, Dean, it’s not socially acceptable,” Sam points out in a bitter, resentful tone. Dean nearly laughs at how personal he is taking this whole matter, as if he needed to be offended to make up for Dean _not_ bitching about the unfairness of society and its dumb prejudices.

“What is up with you?” he asks him, holding back a grin because he is now looking at Sam and the expression on his face is nothing short of seriousness. “Are you an advocate for LGBT rights now?”

“Yes!” he says, throwing his hands in the air. “Of course I am. I want to support you! There’s nothing wrong with who you are, Dean.”

Dean takes a deep breath, swallows hard, getting serious for once. He stands in front of Sam, looking down at his brother, before placing his hands in Sammy’s shoulders. “I know, Sammy, I just… I need time, alright? And Cas…” he takes another deep breath, thinking. _And Cas what, exactly?_ “I don’t know, I just… I like him-”

“A lot,” Sam interrupts him, but this time he isn’t laughing or smirking, he’s serious.

“Yeah, but- but I also think we could be very good friends, and if that’s all he wants, I’m okay with it.”

“Are you really?” Sam asks him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Come on, you’ve heard him talk about his family, and he has no other friends… The guy needs a break, Sam.”

Sam sighs. “He _does_ seem a little lonely. And his brothers sound like assholes.”

“You’ve no idea, Balthazar used to talk shit about Lucifer and Michael constantly.”

Without any warning, Sam puts his arms around Dean’s waist. “Thank you for not being like that, Dean,” he says against his older brother’s chest, “you’re a great brother.”

It takes Dean a moment to return the embrace. A warm smile spreads across his face, his heart bursting with affection. It’s for moments like this that he keeps going, doing the impossible for Sam, because he’s worth it all the struggle.

* * *

Castiel sees that the lights in the living room are on as he stands outside the beautiful building that is his home. He watches from the distance for a couple of minutes, dreading to go in. He feels a million miles away from his parents in moments like this, a stranger to his own family. _Stop being such a coward,_ he tells himself, hands turned into fists. _Just hurry up to your bedroom, mind your own business._

With a sigh, he walks towards the door, puts the keys in as quietly as possible, lets the door open in front of him. As feared, Cas doesn’t completely make it past the living room door before he hears his eldest brother calling him. He quickly considers the possibility of pretending he hadn’t heard him, especially because he’d seen Lucifer in the room with him from the corner of his eye, but he knows they won’t believe him, so he stops dead in his tracks, sighing silently before he turns around on his heels and goes back to standing by the room’s entrance.

“Good evening, brother,” he tells Michael, then looks at Lucifer for a moment before nodding politely his way.

“So kind of you to show, Cas,” Lucifer says in a mocking tone.

“We left you dinner,” Michael tells him, an edge of reproval in his tone. ‘ _We were waiting, you should have been here’_ , he’s telling Cas. “Where have you been? It’s late.”

Cas doesn’t have to look down at his watch to know it really isn’t, not really, not for someone his age on a Friday night.

“I apologize,” he says instead of choosing to go with what really is in his very annoyed mind, “I lost track of time.”

“Doing what, exactly?” Lucifer asks. Cas doesn’t look at him when he replies.

“I was doing that assignment I told you about, with my partner.”

Michael nods for a moment, then says, “on a Friday night?”

“We get together every Friday,” Cas shrugs. He tries to keep the poker face he’s been working on for years in place. It’s flawless, he knows it, but the silence between the three of them is nerve-wracking and these two are also good at appearing to look more at ease than they really are. Passive-aggressive peaceful look, Gabriel called it.

Lucifer rises from where he is sitting, dropping the book on the sofa.

“What’s this assignment you’re working on?” he asks softly, a small, disturbing smile curving up the corners of his lips. He walks closer to Castiel, slowly.

“English assignment. We have a lot of books to read.”

“I didn’t know you needed help reading,” Lucifer mocks him. He’s right in Castiel’s face. He doesn’t look away, although he wants to turn his gaze back to Michael, silently plead for his aid, not wanting to deal with Lucifer, but he also doesn’t want to seem weak so he holds his gaze.

“We compare notes, help each other out fill in the blanks faster,” he tells Lucifer, thankful he is able to keep his voice absolutely neutral. “It helps us concentrate.”

“It helps you concentrate,” Lucifer repeats under his breath, nodding as if Cas has shared a revelation with them. Michael watches them. Cas hates him for letting Lucifer be such a jerk. “And who is _we_ , exactly?” his eyes narrow in a form of accusation as he leans into Castiel’s personal space. The air is thick with unsaid things, subtle threats, old memories.

_LIE._

“Hannah,” Castiel lies without hesitation, his monotonous voice completely normal and believable.

“Hannah,” Michael repeats. Cas is grateful to have a reason to look away from Lucifer and back at the oldest Novak alive. “Are you two friends? Why were you so late, Castiel? Don’t lie.”

 Cas swallows. _Half-truths…_ “She invited me to watch a movie,” Cas confesses. “I… I said yes. I’m sorry, I should have told you I was going to be absent for dinner.”

His brothers eye him for a while. Lucifer taps his nose, eyes boring into Castiel’s.

“A girl, then,” he smiles, fake happy for his little brother. “How nice, Cas. I’m so proud of you.”

Michael sighs, finally stands up from the couch. “Enough, Lucifer.” Cas watches his brother’s smirk disappear, but he doesn’t move away. “It’s fine, Castiel, just let me know next time. I don’t appreciate wasting food, your brother and I work hard to fill our plates.”

Castiel nods, looks down at his feet, that familiar weight of guilt pressing down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I will let you know next time.”

“Yes, and perhaps invite her over for dinner sometime, to return the favor,” Lucifer tells him, eyes full of malice. “We’d love to meet her.”

The youngest Novak feels his stomach twist with nerves. _Oh, no._

Michael walks over to them, giving Lucifer a look that tells him to back off, that he’s not the one in charge. Then, he puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder before he says, “I’m glad to see you’re making friends with… the right kind of people, Cas.”

He grits his teeth so hard, it hurts his jaw. Michael might as well have spat in his face.

 _The right kind of people?_ he repeats in his thoughts, his internal voice full of rage. _What’s that supposed to mean?_ But he knows, he knows _exactly_ what his brother meant; befriend _girls_ , and then be with one, the right kind of partner for a good Christian boy.

He nods, that’s the only response he can come up with. If he opens his mouth, he’s not sure whether he’s going to remain lost for words or yell at them, and while one option might make him look stupid, the other one could get him in big, _big_ trouble.

“Good night, Cas,” Michael tells him, patting his back once before he walks passed him and up the stairs.

Cas doesn’t stay behind to be left alone with Lucifer. He follows Michael upstairs, closing the door of his room behind him before he even turns the lights on. He can feel the tears of anger in his eyes, his fists shake. He hates them, but he hates himself more, for some reason. Cas doesn’t understand why but he feels dirty, _ashamed_. _For being a coward, perhaps? Or a liar? Or a deviant mess? Or a pathetic pushover? The options are limitless¸_ he thinks bitterly.

He sighs, taking his clothes off before getting to bed.

 _What’s wrong with you?_ he wonders. It’s not like him to get so rattled, so flustered, so… _emotional._ Even when Lucifer beat him during the summer, he didn’t get so upset, he simply readjusted his behavior to one that would cause him the least trouble. He cut all ties with Tom, ignored his calls, moved on quickly and easily, became once again the lonely, introverted kid. The role fitted him nicely. Did it still?

 _Don’t let them ruin this, don’t let them ruin a perfectly fun night,_ he tells himself, trying to drown his brother’s voices in his mind with the Winchesters’ instead. Sam and Dean, laughing next to him at the movie; the brothers telling him they like to have him over; Dean talking to him about anything and everything, because that’s what they do, apparently, they share anything with each other. He tries to focus his mind on them instead of allowing his own family to invade his thoughts with their toxic behaviours. Everyday he understands Gabriel’s choice of staying away more and more. Michael had offered him to come back after university, but he had passed on the offer, went his own way and Cas suspected he only returned to visit his younger siblings that were still left behind in the big, old mansion.

It’s not the first time nor the last time both Dean and Castiel fall asleep thinking of each other.

For the Novaks, Saturday is mostly an uneventful day. For Dean, the first day of his weekend pretends to start out as a normal day. He has lunch with Sam, drops him off at Garth’s, goes to fill in on his shift at Bobby’s. His practically adoptive father asks him if he wants to have anything in particular for tomorrow’s lunch.

“Anything Ellen does is Heaven, Bobby, really,” Dean tells him, never looking up from the car he’s working on.

Bobby observes him for a moment before he says, “you’re doing a great work, Dean. Have you considered maybe studying mechanic engineering? What school are you considering applying to?”

Dean freezes. _Fuck, no, not today._ “I…” His mouth is suddenly dry. He doesn’t like lying to Bobby, he hasn’t needed to in a long time. He licks his lips nervously. “I haven’t really thought much about it.”

“Well, you should start applying or all the good ones will get taken,” Bobby comments, frowning at him. Then he smiles and continues, “apply to all of them, son, then you’ll figure out which one you want to go to. I’m sure a couple will have you, a smart kid like you. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

His stomach aches, he feels a wave of self-hatred wash over him. Bobby’s affection only sets the fire within in ablaze; he doesn’t deserve it, all his kindness and support. He should be honest, tell him now that he isn’t going anywhere, he isn’t even considering going to school.

“And don’t you worry about Sam, he can stay with me. I’ve been fixing up the house, the guest room will be ready for him by the time you’re gone.”

Dean looks up. He doesn’t know what his face looks like, but Bobby’s smile drops. He can’t let him do this, go as far as to fix his own house thinking he’s going to host Sam and then just let him know at the last moment that, no, sorry, his efforts were all for nothing, Dean’s not going anywhere after all.

“What?” Bobby asks with genuine concern.

He swallows hard. “Bobby, I’m not going to college.”

The man looks at him for a long minute. He doesn’t blink once. The frown in his forehead grows slowly but steadily. “What do you mean you’re-”

“I mean, I’m not going to college. I’m going to stay here and work on the shop. I like it and I’m good at it, and I don’t really want to go to college. I’ve decided I’m staying here. I’m going to look after Sam myself, and maybe raise enough money so that he doesn’t have to take a full loan when he goes to college.”

Bobby is silent. Dean doesn’t quite know what response he’s expecting, but the silence and the way the man he respects so much is looking at him are making him sick in the stomach.

“Boy, you don’t know what you’re saying,” the older man starts, voice softer than Dean had expected. “Don’t make any rushed decisions, Dean-”

“It’s not rushed, Bobby. I- I decided it a long time ago, okay? I’m- I’m fine with this-”

“The hell you are, you’re just a kid, what do you know!” Bobby’s voice raises. The other mechanic raises his head with curiosity from the other side of the shop, but looks back down as soon as he meets eyes with Bobby. “Son, I can help you pay for-”

“You do enough, okay?” Dean tells him, raising his own voice. He doesn’t want to discuss this, doesn’t want to have to explain his life choices. It’s _his_ life, _his_ choice (that he makes based on Sam’s life, but whatever, right? That’s what big brothers are for). “I- I don’t need to go to college. There are a couple of short courses on mechanics I can take, and that’s all I need and all I want to study. I’m done with school, Bobby, I really am, it’s just not my thing. Now, can we just drop the subject, please?”

He turns away, unable to hold Bobby’s stare, and keeps working on the car. He’s not half as concentrated as he should be, so he doesn’t do anything that really requires his full attention, just pretends to move this here and there.

“If that’s what you want,” he hears the man mumble under his breath.

“It is, okay? It is. And just-” he quickly tries to think of some way to change the subject quickly, and ends up saying very lamely, “just tell Ellen not to make pie, Cas has been feeding me plenty all week.”

When there’s no response for a couple of seconds, he turns his head around to see Bobby’s gone. He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. He feels terrible letting him down like this, and even though he had been preparing himself mentally for it, Dean doesn’t manage to smile for the rest of the day.

It’s only when he gets home that his spirit shyly awakens when he sees John’s car parked outside the house. Having him home, it can be bittersweet at times, but a childish, primal part of him has missed his father and needs someone to cheer him up, someone who doesn’t really have expectations from him (which at times, it’s a bad thing, a _sad_ thing, but today it could be a good for Dean). Sam doesn’t seem as excited as his older brother as they hurry inside the house. When Dean barges in, John jumps from the couch, almost as if he had forgotten that two other people lived there.

“Boys,” he smiles a tired smile.

Dean goes to hug him, but John takes a step back, points at him. He looks down at his clothes, realising he’s covered in grease. A part of him still feels embarrassed by the rejected hug, even though John had a good reason to stay at an arm’s length from him.

He clears his throat, ignoring Sam’s reproving frown. “Dad, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” he asks, pretending that didn’t just hurt his feelings. “I would have bought groceries for dinner.”

“With what money?” Sam asks, no trace of shame or mercy in his tone. “You’ve been counting pennies for days.” The look in the youngest Winchester’s eyes is completely unforgiven as he looks down at the pack of beers John’s brought home.

John sighs. “Yes, sorry about that. I thought I’d just come home instead of sending the money.”

“That’s great, dad,” Dean says, ignoring the animosity between the other two for just a moment. Arguments will come soon enough, surely, no need to hurry them along, and it will probably be Dean the one fighting with his father, not Sam, he never lets John raise his voice at his brother. “I’m glad you’re back.”

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean and excuses himself to his bedroom, where he remains locked in until Dean calls him for dinner. No one helps him make dinner, John just sits in the couch, watching TV, drinking beer. Slowly, he begins to remember why things don’t work out between them, but he tries to swallow his resentment. _I need my father, just this once, I need peace, so be nice_ , he tells himself and prays that John will be nice too while he sits in the couch to share a beer with his dad.

He is nice, surprisingly. He tells a couple of odd but funny stories about the life on the road. Dean laughs (probably more than he should, but he’s drank 3 beers by now), imagines himself going off like that someday, when Sam doesn’t need him anymore. He’d like to do it, drive around the country for a bit, do his own thing, feel independent and free like John is. He’ll make sure not to leave children behind, though.

Sam, in the other hand, is quiet and barely even looks in his father’s direction. He does throw Dean a couple of weird looks, which he chooses to ignore. He’ll deal with Sam later too, when John inevitably leaves them again. He always deals with everyone’s shit, sooner or later, but just not tonight, this week’s been a rollercoaster of unexpected, uncomfortable conversations with people he respects.

“We’re going for lunch at Bobby’s tomorrow,” he comments casually as he picks up the dirty plates. “Do you want to come?”

There’s a moment of silence. Sam’s head shoots up, gives Dean a reproachful look. _How dare you invite him to Bobby’s!_ his brother’s shouting at him telepathically.

“I don’t think I’m welcomed at Bobby’s, son.”

 _It’s Sunday family lunch_ _and you’re my family, my father, but okay, cool, no biggie._

“Well… Well, I don’t mind staying and having lunch with you,” Dean offers. Sam is shooting daggers at him with his eyes. “I can just drop Sam off there and come back.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dean, you two go ahead without me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

_I wish you’d just tell me, if you don’t want to spend time with me, just tell me._

He waits for John to say something else, good or bad, to offer do to something with his sons, to tell any more stories or to just tell Dean that he doesn’t care about him, that he doesn’t want to see him. _You’re just being dramatic now,_ he thinks, but a part of him wishes John would just do it, it’d be easier to fully hate him rather than to spend his life half expecting a reaction out of his father.

But he turns to Sam, instead, leaning closer. “School’s going well, Sam?”

Sam looks at his father for a long, solid minute, then stands up and walks out of the kitchen. Dean sees John’s face change from one of tired patience to building anger.

_Shit._

“Dad, don’t,” he tells John when his father stands up from his chair, opens his mouth to say something. He stands firmly in front of him, but his eyes are pleading. “Can we- can we not do this tonight, please?”

John sighs aggressively, jaw clenching. After a moment, he turns to him and says, “you’re raising him to be disrespectful, Dean.”

It’s like a slap to his face. Dean can’t help raising his own voice, repressed anger and frustration erupting from within him like a volcano. “Well, dad, I’m sorry _I’m_ not raising _your_ son the way you like it! He’s got a good reason being angry at you, you know?”

Dean knows he’s just opened the door for a whole hour of the whole of them yelling at each other. It’s a new record for them, John’s been home only a couple of hours and they’re already at each other’s throats. Dean argues that if John doesn’t like the way things are done in the house, then he should be more present, that he can’t just be gone for weeks and weeks on end. John tells him he’s ungrateful, that he travels because there are no jobs in this town, which Dean is convinced is a lie. It’s only a knock on the door from a neighbour that asks them to keep it down that makes them stop. John goes back to his place in the couch, picks up another beer, while Dean decides to call it a day, a very bad day, and goes to bed.

It’s Sam who wakes him up on the morning. It’s late in the morning and he’s asking Dean if he wants pancakes. He has this guilty look on his face Dean hates seeing. He heard all the yelling last night, of course he did, probably the entire neighbourhood did, and he most likely blames himself for not pleasing John and causing all that trouble.

“Sure, Sammy, I’ll help you cook them,” Dean tells him, yawing his way out of bed.

“I can manage pancakes, Dean,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Seriously, I’m not 6 anymore, you’ve got to start giving me more responsibilities.”

Dean snorts. “I think you’re the only kid who’s ever _asked_ for responsibilities.”

“Just don’t make me clean the bathroom,” Sam adds quickly.

When the pancakes are ready, Dean debates with himself whether he should offer John some or not. They’ve made plenty that they can share with their father, although he’s sure that was never Sam’s intention more than it was a miscalculation of ingredients needed.

“This is why I don’t let you cook,” Dean had laughed when the pancakes had formed a tiny but considerable mountain.

In the end, when neither of them can have any more pancakes, he decides to go to their father’s room and offer some. He knocks on the door, gets no answer. He opens the door after a couple of seconds; John’s not there. Dean feels this ugly feeling crawling up his spine.

“Hey, Sam, have you seen dad?” he asks his brother, who’s washing the dishes.

Sam shakes his head, stubbornly keeping his eyes on the dishes, deciding to ignore anything related to that man.

Dean looks around the living room quickly; his father’s jacket’s not in the couch anymore. The keys to his car are gone too. He tries not to run to his father’s room. Once there, he takes a quick look around and realises his duffle bag’s not there either. This time he notices an envelope in his father’s nightstand. Feeling his stomach twisting uncomfortably, he goes to pick it up. It’s got a several dollar bills inside. Slowly, he sits on the edge of the bed. He wants to rip the bills apart, but knows better. He wishes he didn’t need them, though, wishes he didn’t need _him_ at all.

There’s a pressure in his chest that’s suffocating. He takes a deep breath, swallowing everything, any feeling, any thought that dares try being acknowledged. He has to go to Bobby’s in about half and hour, there’s no time for this.

 _And then Cas is coming this afternoon,_ he reminds himself. _So keep your shit together. It’s fine, it’s fine, you don’t need him, don’t need him at all._

“Dean?”

He looks up to see Sam eyeing him with curiosity from the door. He gets up, walking past his brother and towards the bathroom.

“I’m gonna take a shower, be ready to leave in twenty.”

Dean sees his brother open his mouth to speak over the corner of his eye, but he shuts the bathroom door closed before Sam’s got a chance to ask what’s wrong with him. He takes a long time in the shower. He sets the water at a very hot temperature and focuses on how it feels on his now reddened skin. It works to shut his mind up for a while, at few minutes at least.

While he’s in the shower, Sam seems to put two and two together, so he doesn’t make any questions when Dean comes out of the bathroom. He sits in the couch, ready to go, in silence. He eyes him cautiously. Dean sees the pity and the guilt in his eyes, so he doesn’t look at him again for a long time.

It’s a tense lunch. Bobby’s quiet from the moment they arrive, and Dean knows he’s still not over their conversation from the previous day. He can’t make a word himself, and sits with him in silence, eyes fixed on the TV although he has no idea what he’s supposed to be watching. He looks angry because he doesn’t like to look upset in front of people, so Bobby keeps his distance, probably thinking he’s the only pissing Dean off. He hears Sam tell Ellen in a whisper about John when he walks past the kitchen on his way to the bathroom. Ellen probably tells Bobby because after that, his demeanor changes, becoming softer around Dean. It’s pity, again, and he hates, _hates_ it, so when Bobby offers him to stay the afternoon, watch TV together, he declines, saying he needs to go home and meet with Cas. It’s too early but he doesn’t care, so he leaves Sam there and drives home. He parks the car in front of their house and looks at it for a long moment. He can’t manage to get out of the car and inside the empty home, so Dean just stays there, eyes closed, music loud in his eyes. He sings very softly, concentrates on the lyrics, trying to drown his need to just cry.

* * *

Cas wakes up looking forward for the afternoon. He goes to church with his brothers, barely takes in anything the priest says. He prays again for forgiveness, as usual, as taught, but then prays that his friendship with the Winchesters will remain, that they are not just something temporary. After lunch, re reads with Michael in the living room and is very grateful that Lucifer isn’t there when he tells his brother he’s leaving.

“Are you going to see that girl, Hannah?” he asks, a small pleased smile on his face. Castiel hates it.

“Yes,” he lies.

Michael nods. “Have a nice time, Cas. Be home for dinner?”

_Or what?_

“I will.”

He hates how indulgent he is, but he can’t help himself. He’d rather say what his brother wants to hear and leave to Dean’s as soon as possible. When he leaves his son and its poisonous air, Castiel starts smiling, starts feeling alive again…

Until he sees Dean sitting inside his car, eyes shut, his hands on the steering wheel. Something’s wrong, it doesn’t take a genius to know it. Castiel glances towards the house for a moment, wondering what happened, and decides to walk around the car and knock on the passenger’s door’s window. His friend nearly jumps off his skin, startled. He looks at him for a moment as if he’d forgotten who he is, then he reaches to open the door. Dean turns the volume of the music down as Castiel sits down next to him. For a moment, neither says anything, Cas patiently waiting for an explanation, dreading to be told to go away, while Dean gets his shit together.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he says, shoulders hunched forwards. He looks defeated, Cas thinks. “I- I should have called you, I lost track of time. I’m not really in the mood for homework.”

Cas thinks for a moment. _He’s not_ exactly _telling you to go away,_ he hopes. Dean definitely looks upset, though, and he doesn’t know how to handle it, doesn’t know what to say or what _not_ to say. All he knows is he doesn’t want to be asked to leave.

“What do you feel like doing, then?” he asks, looking away from Dean because he clearly doesn’t want to be looked at right now.

Dean looks up for a moment. He’s not really surprised Cas isn’t pissed at him, that wouldn’t be like him. He thinks, then says, “would you like to go for a drive?”

Cas nods. The car becomes alive when Dean turns the key. The engine is loud and the whole car seems to vibrate with the sound.

“If you want to pick the music, there’s a bunch of cassettes in the glove compartment.”

He doesn’t really know much about music, but he opens it anyway, going through the cassettes one for one. He recognises the name of a few famous bands, although he can’t say he’s listened to any of their music. He chooses one that says ‘Kaleo’ and lets the music fill in their silence. It’s some kind of blues and rock band, the singer has a deep, beautiful voice, in Castiel’s opinion. Dean drives on and on, until they’re in the outskirts of town, and then they’re driving away. Cas hadn’t left town in such a long time, it seems only fitting that he would do it with Dean.

After almost an hour of driving in silence, Dean stops. Cas looks at him for just a moment; he’s sure he’s got tears in his eyes, his jaw is trembling.

_Where was I supposed to wait for you sweetheart?_

_And hide away the shame_

_Yes I keep it all inside, all the thought that cross my mind_

_I do all the things I regret and we don't want that_

Dean abruptly stops the music, takes the cassette out. His breathing speeds up. Castiel waits patiently for whatever is going to happen, for whatever Dean needs to happen.

“My dad came home yesterday,” he says out of the blue. There’s a brief silence, then he adds, “and he left again this morning.” His grip on the steering wheel is so strong, his knuckles are white. “I just- I just wish I didn’t care so much, you know?”

He stops as abruptly as he’s started speaking and simply shrugs after a moment, taking a deep breath.

“Don’t say that, Dean,” Cas says softly. “That’s what makes everyone like you. If you didn’t, you’d be… well, like me.”

“What’s wrong with being like you?”

Cas smiles at that. _Where should I start?_ “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve no friends, Dean.”

“That’s not true,” Dean says quickly, “you’ve got me and Sam.”

He can’t help but smile again at Dean’s stubbornness.

That smile, it does something to Dean, it shines some light in the darkness he feels inside.

“It’s not about quantity but quality with friends, Cas,” Dean says.

“I agree, but you could say my quality standards are perhaps a little too high,” Castiel jokes.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Maybe,” he shrugs.

“And I’m still not too sure about you,” he smirks, “your taste in music is a cliché, Dean.”

This time, Dean does a full belly laugh. “Oh, _really_?” he raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve gotta tell you, Cas, _your_ taste in books is kind of _depressing_.”

Cas gasps. “They’re classics!”

“I’m not saying they’re not _good_ ,” Dean smiles at his outraged face, “but, come on, lighten up, read some Harry Potter, dude.”

“As far as I know, a lot of characters die in the series of books, Dean.”

“True, true, but still a great story,” Dean nods.

They stare at each other, both smiling. Castiel thinks, proud of himself, that there are no more tears in Dean’s eyes.

“How do you know what I read anyway?”

“You read all the time, I just have _eyes_ , you know?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, then shrugs. “I just- I’ve always felt rather invisible,” he admits.

“You’re not invisible, Cas,” Dean says softly. Cas smiles to himself. It gets a little cold, the sun is going down. It paints red colours in his friend’s pale skin. Dean realises it’s the first time Castiel’s in his car and hopes it’s no the last one, he hopes he’ll allow Dean to take him out for rides more often. There’s something comforting about having him right next to him, even when he’s just quietly looking out the window. “Thank you, Cas.”

Blue eyes look up at him, slightly confused. “What for?”

Dean smiles with endearment. _For being so wonderfully you. For not asking me to share when I can’t. For your patience. For your kindness._ “For coming here with me today. I really needed the company.”

“Anytime,” Cas smiles.

There’s a small pause, suspended in time. Dean can’t help it, he licks his lips as his eyes just wander down to look at Castiel’s, his mind painting a pretty picture in which Dean leans in and kisses him. What a perfect moment it’d be, if only he could.

Castiel notices and something changes, right there and then, for him. A seed of suspicions is planted in his mind and with that, a whole different door opens. If Dean could somehow want him, he could want him too. He does a double take on his friend for a moment, as if he were seeing him for the first time; Dean’s perfect facial features, his sweet boyish face that is growing up pretty and steadily, slowly becoming a young man, his messy green eyes that sometimes change colour, his cheeky smile.

He looks away, blushing, and so does Dean, not wanting to stare for too long when the other boy looks away.

He turns the key around, Baby comes back to life.

“How about you try the radio this time?” he offers Cas.

His friend laughs and starts changing the channels on the radio. He’s not sure what he likes himself, he’s never been one to pay a lot of attention to music, but he stops when he finds a song he recognises, because he’s heard Gabriel singing it before.

“Really, Cas?” Dean smiles. “George Ezra?”

Cas shrugs. “It reminds me of my brother.”

Dean starts singing along despite himself, he’s heard the song a couple of times before on the radio while working on Bobby’s shop. Cas knows the lyrics too and he shyly sings with Dean, although not nearly as loudly as his friend does.

“If it feels like paradise running through your bloody veins, you know it's love heading your way!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's interested, the two songs mentioned are:  
> Kaleo - I Can't Go on Without You  
> George Ezra - Paradise


	12. Chapter 12

When he sees the way Dean is looking with uncertainty at his house, car already parked outside, Castiel offers to stay for a couple more hours.

“I think we could still attempt to finish your Chemistry homework. It _is_ due this week, Dean.”

The other turns his head around, looking grateful and relieved.

“Really? You don’t have to go yet?” he asks, shifting in his seat, feeling slightly guilty that he made Cas spend most of the afternoon in his car.

Cas smiles, kind as always. “Not at all.”

“And, hmm… Would you mind if we go to Bobby’s?” Dean asks, turning his head back around to look at his house. It seems so empty, even from outside. “I… don’t feel like going in just yet.”

His friend agrees and after getting his books, the two of them return to the old man’s house. When he opens the door, his family (Bobby, Sam, Ellen and Jo) look up from their place around the TV, faces stunned with surprise.

“Dean,” Bobby gets up, slowly, not really knowing what to say.

Dean raises a hand and half-smiles; a sign of peace, a truce offering. “I- I’m sorry about how I left before. Would you mind if we do our homework here, Bobby?”

Bobby notices Castiel standing shyly behind Dean for the first time, a thin, pale boy with expensive looking clothes. He looks nothing like the rest of Dean’s friends, the ones he’s seen him with during his football matches (because, _of course_ , Bobby and Ellen always go to see him play), and yet it’s the second one Dean’s ever brought to his house (Benny being the first one, when his parents were away for two weeks and he invited him to lunch). It means something, he knows it without asking, that awkward looking boy is important to Dean. Cas stared back at Bobby looking like a nervous kitten. The man’s expression softens, turning into a smile under his beard.

“Of course not,” he says as he stretches a hand towards Cas. The boy shakes it, smiling back at Bobby. “I’m Bobby.”

“Castiel.”

“Dean, there’s blueberry pie in the fridge if you want some,” Ellen says, looking at Dean with a sweetness that resemblances that of a mother. It’s the closest Dean’s ever going to get to having one. “I know you said you didn’t want any, but Jo insisted.”

“There’s pie?” Cas can’t help asking, turning around with interest.

Jo laughs. “We have another pie fan here, I see?”

“It’s Dean’s fault,” Sam smirks. “He’s turning Cas into a more elegant version of himself.”

“He’s not making you listen to all that rock music, is he?” Bobby asks, grinning along with Sam.

“He is,” Cas responds as Dean rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not!”

The two boys sit at the kitchen’s table to work on their homework. Ellen, very naively, gives them the entire pie and two forks, and the boys end up eating most of it as they’re lost in their homework. Cas is patient and smart, and even though Dean is loving to have an excuse to stare at Cas’ beautiful face as they’re sitting close together, it also turns out Castiel is a pretty great teacher. He has to repeat himself a couple of times, reformulate his explanations, but slowly and gradually, Dean’s answers start matching the right ones. The black cloud hanging over the young Winchester’s head dissipates as if Cas were blowing it away with every smile he directed at him. He can hear his family in the other room too, laughing at some stupid movie, and it’s some fine background music to lift up his spirits. Dean doesn’t really mind that he’s sitting in the kitchen doing homework on a Sunday while his family, his _real_ family, are happy and close by while he also gets to enjoy time with Castiel. Just like that, his weekend isn’t such a lost cause after all.

Castiel, in the other hand, feels like he accidentally got in a roller coaster of emotions and he has no idea how to get off, when the ride will exactly shut down, and is in no way prepare for the adrenaline that comes with the ride. He eats pie, getting filled with sugar and he feels the warmth of the people that surround him practically emanating towards him. It’s affection that’s in the air. It’s so unfamiliar that all of a sudden he feels terribly out of place, like an intruder. These people are not related, and yet they’re family, that much is obvious; the boys treat Jo like a sister, and Bobby and Ellen talk to the boys as if they were their own. His heart aches watching them interact with each other. It burns with jealousy, with longing, and it wakes up a sadness within him he didn’t know he had. Sure, he loves his brothers and sister, some more than others, but his home never feels like this, full of love and acceptance and just _right_. It did maybe once upon a time when his parents were alive but he can’t even remember what that was like anymore.

He’s quiet on the way to Dean’s. The other one doesn’t seem to notice there’s something wrong with him; after all, Cas is good at keeping things secret, especially his feelings, and it’s normal behaviour for him to remain silent for long periods of time. Dean tells Cas to think about what type of music he likes, promises to get some cassettes for him to listen to in the car “if they don’t suck too much,” he jokes. Cas forces himself to huff a laugh but the kind offering just sends him spiralling even more, accompanied by his previous comment on his taste in books being depressing… The truth is, the young man has no idea what he likes, what he wants, or what he enjoys. He reads the books he thinks his father once enjoyed in a pathetic attempt to claim Cas knows him; listens to the music his brothers choose when they’re around, eats what his brothers order the housemaid to cook, wears clothes that are similar to his brothers’, and will probably choose a degree Michael finds appropriate for him and then work in the family business. He realises with a feelings equal to that of someone dropping an ice bucket over his head, that he has no idea who he is; he is merely an spectator in his own life, watching other people define his surroundings, his decision defined simply by his environment.

It’s a quiet dinner with his brothers and Anna that night. Michael asks him how his day went with Hannah. He tries to sound uninterested but Cas can tell he’s hopeful – _that I won’t be gay anymore, perhaps?_ , while his sister looks up with interest and a bit of confusion without even trying to hide it at the mention of a girl and Cas in the same context. His answer is barely audible. None of his brothers seemed satisfied by what little Castiel shares, but Anna doesn’t dare push the subject in front of the oldest Novaks and Lucifer appears to be unwilling to piss of Michael that particular evening (which Castiel is immensely thankful for). He eats but he’s not really hungry, his stomach still full of delicious blueberry pie but the happiness from eating it is gone. Even if he weren’t full, Cas is sure he still wouldn’t want to eat. He concentrates, trying hard to keep his hands from trembling as he feels a nasty uneasiness spreading through him. He doesn’t know what it is and wishes he could simply stand up and shake it off.

In the comfort of his room, Castiel lays down on his stomach and buries his face on the pillow. He tries to hold on, to gain control, and he’s physically shaking as he forces his muscle to try to stay in place as if that would freeze his feelings as well, but it’s as if he were free falling into a hole, a deep, dark hole. Cas can’t take, that wave of feelings that are overwhelming him. He’d become so good at shutting them down, to go through life numbly and efficiently, somewhere along the line he simply rather forgot what it was like to feel, to _really_ feel. While he liked the newfound feelings of belonging, the happiness of being wanted and having friends, the strangle tingling sensation in his stomach he’s felt that afternoon while looking at Dean, apparently he had also opened a door for everything else he had been repressing for years. He couldn’t make out the mess of emotions that swirled like a tornado in his heart and soul, couldn’t separate the good ones from the bad ones to begin to understand each of them. He lays on the bed, eyes tightly shut, feeling warmer than the room really is and slightly out of breath, trying to compel his mind to go blank, to calm down, until he manages to fall asleep fully clothed and with the lights of his room still on.

He wakes up with a start on Monday morning when Anna knocks on his door.

“Cas?” she asks for a moment before opening the door. She eyes with him curiosity for a moment, turns the lights off since the sun coming through the window is enough to light up the room. “Are you okay? Did you… sleep with your clothes on?”

Her brother sits up, looks around the room to check on the clock; he forgot the set the alarm the night before and he’s late, very late. His heart sinks: he’s _never_ been late before. What’s wrong with him?

“Are you sick?” Anna asks, closing the door behind her. “It’s okay if you can’t drive me to school.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Cas says, jumping to his feet and gathering his books for that morning’s classes.

“You don’t look fine,” Anna says, momentarily jumping in front of the door to stop him from heading out. “Cas, what was that Michael said about a girl yesterday? You’re… you’re not _really_ seeing a girl, are you?”

He freezes. It’s too early to have this conversation, his brain has barely had any time to wake up, his eyes can’t still focus properly. He scans her face quickly to try and figure out what exactly she wants him to say. Cas looks for signs of judgement but he finds only concerns in Anna’s expression.

“I’m not,” he confesses.

“But they think you are,” Anna figures out, sighing. “Oh, Cas… You shouldn’t lie to them, you’re gonna get in trouble.”

Cas narrows his eyes, his lack of sleep making him look meaner than usual as he leans into her personal space to politely push her away from the door, and says, “and you should mind your own business.”

Anna stares back at him, shocked as her brothers walks past her. It’s the first time he’s ever been remotely unkind to her and she just doesn’t know how to respond. Cas, in the other hand, feels instantly guilty, and like that the hurricane of feelings wakes up again within him, slapping him awake.

The drive to school goes in complete silence. Anna mumbles a goodbye and walks away. He wants to say something, to apologise, perhaps, but he can’t form a work, let alone a sentence. He has to run to class. When he walks in, the first thing Cas sees is Dean’s expression going from surprise, because Cas is _never_ late and he’d assumed he just wasn’t coming in today, to obvious concern. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but the professor comes in and the boy with dark hair just hurries to his seat, barely nodding at his friend. Dean turns around a couple of times to eye him with curiosity, mouths an, “are you okay?” are some point and Castiel nods and looks away quickly, trying his best to pretend everything is fine, like he should be trained for by now, but he gets cornered once the class is over.

“Hey, Cas, you okay, buddy?” Dean asks him.

Two girls eye them with curiosity. Since when are Novak and Winchester friends?

“I’m fine, thank you,” Castiel answered as he puts his book away.

“You’re wearing the same clothes you had yesterday,” Dean points out, “and you’re hair… I mean, it’s usually messy, but this,” he smiles, pointing upwards, “this is really something.”

Castiel blushes and runs his hands through his hairs, pulling it backwards.

“Is that better?” he asks.

Dean licks his lips slowly and nods shortly once. It makes Castiel blush even harder, and his heart rate quickens. He looks away from Dean as he slightly recognises the feelings, the _urges_ that that look on his friend’s face cause him to have.

“I’ve got to go,” he says, pushing passed his friend.

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Dean runs to the front of the class to stop him, “seriously, Cas, are you alright? Did I… Did I do something? You’re barely looking at me.”

“What? No, it’s not you, Dean.”

“So something _is_ up?”

Cas feels trapped. He hates it, it makes his chest feel tight. Can’t Dean see that he can’t talk about whatever is happening? He doesn’t even _know_ what’s happening to him.

“Cas, you can talk to me, you know that, right?”

This level of concern from someone who isn’t one of his brothers, he’s not used to it. Dean looks worried and sweet, and how did he never notice before how handsome he is?

He wants to explain, wants to ask for help, but he’s rendered mute by the monster growing inside him.

“I…” he opens his mouth but he finds no way to explain himself. “I need to go, Dean. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

The young man looks down and hurries off the room. This time Dean doesn’t try to stop him. He looks after him, worry pumping through his veins, but what else can he do? He doesn’t want to coarse the answer out of his friend, he will talk when he is ready. He realises how much it sucks, though, to have to wait to help those you love, and makes a mental note to try and open up faster next time he is going through something.

 _We’ve got other classes together this week, but alright, I’ll talk to him on Wednesday…_ he laments.

Dean observes his friend the entire week, but his reasons are different this time. He’s concerned. Whatever’s happening to Cas doesn’t relent all week. His friend looks tired and shaky, and he’s distracted during class like Dean’s never seen his before. He feels a little pride when on Wednesday he seems to relax a little bit as they sat side by side in his living room. Dean watches him, wondering if he should say something, try to talk to him again, but he decides not to; let Castiel have a little piece, if only for a couple of hours.

On Friday, he offers Cas to go to a party with him on Saturday.

“Fred’s parents will be out of town and he likes to show off at parties,” he tells Castiel right before he leaves, “so it’s going to be pretty wild. He’s got an indoor pool, Cas.”

Cas nods politely; he couldn’t care less about those luxuries Dean finds incredible.

“What do you say you and I go, get really drunk and blow off some steam?” Dean offers with a smile.

His friend hesitates, but not because he really wants to go. He couldn’t think of anything worse than being surrounded by strangers pretending to be having a good time at the moment, but he feels an invisible obligation pulling at him, telling him to go.

 _He’s asked you before, you said maybe some other time you’d go… If you don’t say yes, he’ll stop asking you to come at all,_ a nagging voice at the back of Castiel’s mind speaks.

Oh and Castiel really wants Dean to keep asking him to go out together, but he just really doesn’t want to say yes this time. If it could just be the two of them, driving away like they had last Sunday, that’d be perfect, that’d be fine, maybe that would even help him subdue the wild tide of emotions inside him.

He’s about to say yes, rather unwillingly, when Dean plants a hand on his shoulder and says with all honestly, “Cas, it’s okay if you don’t want to go. I thought it may help you, but clearly it won’t. So you don’t need to come just to please me.”

There’s a almost look of tired disappointment in Dean’s eyes, but he looks honest and the weight on his hand on Castiel’s shoulders grounds him to his senses for the first time in the entire week.

“Look, whatever it’s going on with you… just come and talk to me when you’re ready.”

Castiel doesn’t know he’s doing it when suddenly he has his arms around Dean. Dean watches it happen in slow motion, his hopeful heart skipping a bit as he watches the boy he’s got a huge crush on coming forwards towards him. But instead of kissing him, Cas hugs him. It’s rather awkward and Dean barely has time to react and pat his back when Castiel is pulling away, looking down with embarrassment.

“Have a nice weekend, Dean,” he mumbles before he opens the door and disappears.

Dean remains on the same spot for an entire minute, blinking stupidly. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. His mind desperately tries to hold on to the feeling of having Castiel against his chest. His mind feels guilty for feeling happy, excited, while his friend is visibly hurting. Cas suddenly showing affection like that, _physical_ affection, when he’s usually shy and careful, cautious and sane, is a sign that something’s wrong with him. He did it out of impulse, most likely, and Cas isn’t an impulsive person. Dean’s heart aches thinking there’s probably no one else out there to hug the boy when he needs the affection, only him.

When Castiel walks into the kitchen on Saturday morning, he’s surprised to see Balthazar has returned home for the weekend. He’s not home that often and he usually schedules his visits with time, so Cas isn’t really surprised when his brother corners him in the library and asks him how he’s doing.

“Anna called us, she says you’ve been weird all week,” Balthazar says, closing the door of the library behind him, lowering his voice; God forbids Michael or Lucifer find out something’s wrong with Castiel.

“What do you mean, ‘us’?”

“Us,” Balthazar repeats, like it’s obvious, “your non-douchy brothers. Gabe wanted to come but a pipe broke at the shop so I told him I had it covered. So, spill it out, what’s going on with you?”

Cas lowers his head, feeling guilty his brother came all that way just to talk to him. He also realises he _still_ hasn’t apologised to Anna for being a jerk to her on Monday when she was just trying to help him. It’s too much, things keep pilling up and he felts he’s about to explode, like a balloon with too much air inside.

“There was no need to come all this way, Balthazar,” he says, half-apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault to begin with. “I wish you’d called, I would have told you not to come.”

“Then I’m glad I came,” Baltz insists, eyeing his brother. “Come on, Cas, what’s up? Is it… Is it something to do with a guy?”

 _Is it?_ Cas asks himself.

“I don’t know,” he replies, because that’s the truth. “I don’t know, I just feel… not like myself.”

Balthazar folds his arms over his chest. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Castiel shrugs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he sighs. “Brother, I am fine, really.”

“Peachy, I’d say,” Baltz mumbles, raising an eyebrow.

His brother stands up straight, puts on that poker face he wears so well. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m sorry you came all this way, I ruined your weekend.”

“You haven’t ruined my weekend, Cas,” the boy with blonde curls tells him, then smirks mischievously, “but if you want to make it up to me, I heard there’s a party tonight.”

“How would you know-”

“Cas, _please_ ,” his brother huffs a laugh, then points at himself, “there’s never a party on town without me knowing about it. So we’re going. You, me and Anna. The Novaks are gonna party tonight, little bro. And you said you’re fine, right? So I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to come party with your favorite brother.”

Cas hesitates, but he feels guilty, he doesn’t want to decline the offer; his brother did give up his weekend to come and check on him.

“Your hesitation better be about the party and not about me being your favorite brother,” Balthazar warns him, opening up the door of the home library again.

“I love you all the same,” Cas says solemnly.

Balthazar rolls his eyes. “Always the nice boy, aren’t you? We leave at 9 tonight, you’re driving.”

9 o’clock comes around sooner than Cas had expected. He’d finished reading Ordinary People, which left him feeling uneasy and touched in not a very good way; he takes it it’s not a good sign when you feel connected with a character in a book that was _depression_ , of all things. He changes into a simply pair of informal, dark slacks and a plain white shirt. Of course, he takes the trench-coat with him, gaining a look from his siblings.

“You sure you wanna take the coat, Cas?” Anna asks him. “You look nice without it.”

“Normal,” Balthazar interjects with a smirk.

“I’m taking the coat.”

“I know it’s your safety blanket, Cas, but there’s going to be a whole lot of drunk people, probably myself included, and I cannot say with a 100% certainty that daddy’s dear trench coat won’t get beer on it.”

Cas sighs, considering his brother’s words. It’s not the thought of his brothers yelling at him for ruining their father’s trench coat that makes him take the piece of clothing off, but rather his own fondness regarding it. He folds it as gently as ever and puts it down on the couch before the three young Novak siblings head out into the night.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be partying with high schoolers, Baltz?” Anna teases his brother as Cas drives. There’s a merry vibe between those two, the one that people carry when they’re looking forward to something good, while Cas hold the steering wheel hoping to melt into it and never be able to get out of the car.

“Just too old to hook up, never to party,” he shoots back at his sister, grinning.  

“Oh, how noble of you,” she rolls her eyes, laying back on her seat with a smile on her face.

Balthazar looks to the side at Castiel, studies his for a moment. He tries not to show how worried he is about him. He pats his shoulder, gaining a dirty look from his brother; _don’t bother the driver_.

“Lighten up, Cassie, we’re gonna have a good time.”

But Castiel knows as soon as they pull over that Balthazar is wrong. The house is crawling with people, many of whom he recognises, even though he doesn’t know all their names, and he knows right away that this is the party Dean had been talking about. All the football team is there and they greet Balthazar with a loud round of applause and cheers. The girls turn around with interest to watch his brother and even himself, he thinks. _The girls in our class are always very happy to see you,_ he remembers his new friend telling him once. Anna follows her brothers, delighted to have a reason to hang out with the senior boys.

He gets handed a beer and with another pat on the shoulder, Balthazar orders him to drink.

“It’ll help you relax,” he tells him.

Cas considers this for a moment; he really _does_ want to relax, so he takes a sip. He wrinkles his nose at the taste and the smell, gaining a teasing grin from his brother.

“It gets betters after a while, Cas. Drink on.”

He drinks, just to have something to do with himself while his siblings start chatting up with friends. Out of place, as usual he feels out of place. _Why did I even come here?_ he thinks, hating himself for letting Balthazar push him into coming.

 _You owe him,_ another side of him says. _He came all this way for you._

“Hey, Cas,” a familiar voice says behind him, nearly making him jump. He turns around to see Benjamin standing in front of him, cheeks red with alcohol and an easy grin on his lips, “nice to see you here, we’re not your usual crowd.”

Cas frowns. Is he being nice or condescending? He can’t tell, he doesn’t know these people. His heart races with a new rush of anxiety. “Thanks?”

Benny laughs. “You’re welcome?” he responds, just as confused. “So how’s the school year treating you, getting straight A’s as usual?”

Castiel sips some beer, hoping to relax. He licks his lips and shrugs, “I can’t complain.”

The other boy nods in agreement, his smile never fading. Little by little he starts to suspect it’s a real smile, a friendly one. He knows this is one of Dean’s closest friends, if not the closest, and he relaxes at the thought; anyone that is regarded highly by Dean is probably a nice person.

 _Where the hell_ is _Dean?_ he thinks, looking around the crowded house hoping to find his one and only friend.

“You’re looking for Dean?” Benny guesses before drinking from his own cup. “He’s not here yet. He’s going to be glad you came.”

“Really?” Cas looks back at him, surprised. He feels a wave of warmth running down his legs, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or what Benny’s just said. “Why?”

Benny laughs again. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’re his friend, that’s why,” he tells Cas and then pats him so hard on the shoulder, Cas leans forwards and spills some beer on the ground. “You _are_ weird, he is right. That’s a compliment, by the way, in Dean’s dictionary.”

“And in yours?” he asks before he can stop himself. He can’t handle not understanding whether someone is laughing at his face or being genuinely (though weirdly) nice.

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” the other tells him. “You know, I’m happy to see he’s got someone that helps him with school. I’ve been kind of worried about him. Coach told me he offered Dean the position of captain of the team, but he turned it down, did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t… He didn’t mention anything…”

Cas sips more beer. _Why didn’t he say anything?_ he wonders. _Have I overestimated our friendship? What else does Dean keep from me?_

“He didn’t tell me, either. Dean… he likes his secrets, his privacy, he always pretends everything’s fine…” Benny’s face changes for a moment, his drunken grin faltering. “You keep an eye out for me, will you? Let me know if he… if he’s not alright, I guess. He tends to bottle things up.”

“I doubt there’s anything I know that you don’t know,” Cas says, the tingling sensation of warmth spreading to his fingers, “you’ve been friends for a much longer period of time than us.”

“Cas,” Benny starts, “it’s not about who’s been friends with whom the longest, it’s about… I don’t know, man, trust? He trusts you, I can tell.” Suddenly he puts an arm around his shoulders and starts dragging Castiel through the crowd. “Come on, you need another drink. I’ll show you the way.”

As they move through the ocean of people, boys pat Benjamin’s shoulder and girls yell greetings his way over the loud music. It’s nothing like the kind Dean plays on the car and Castiel thinks he’d much rather be listening to one of his friend’s cassettes than this pop garbage on the background, but the more he drinks, the more he tolerates it and Benny is not bad company at all, Cas decides quickly. They make a stop on the kitchen and Benny refills his cup, but it’s not beer he’s pouring in.

“What’s that?” Cas asks, wrinkling his nose again at the smell of alcohol. It’s something dark, soda probably, but the strong smell coming from it gives away its true ingredients.

“Cuba libre!” Benny shouts happily, like that should mean something to Castiel.

“What’s that?” Cas repeats the questions, making the other boy laugh.

“Coke and vodka. Or is it rum?” He screws up his face for a moment, trying hard to remember something extremely unimportant. “I can’t remember. They’re the same shit, though, wouldn’t you say?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” Cas shrugs.

“Well, try it, and then I’ll give you the other to taste, and then you’ll know.”

“But how can you tell it’s a different one if you don’t know which one this is and you say they’re the same?”

They look at each other for a moment. Slowly, Benny starts giggling, and Cas can’t help smiling himself for a moment, although he doesn’t find the situation nearly as amusing as his already drunk friend seems to do.

“We’ll just have to try them all, I guess,” Benny tells him, pointing at the several jars of different looking beverages displayed on the kitchen counter.

Cas tries the drink with coke. He shudders as he swallows, the liquid burning his insides as it travels down his esophagus. Benny throws his head back and laughs.

“Attaboy!”

Benny drags Castiel to watch a game of beer pong. He doesn't participate but cheers Benjamin on along with the rest of the people who are standing on their side of the table. How he can keep so many drinks down, Cas has no idea. He's already feeling a little weird and it's only his fourth drink. He feels hot, quite hot, and is glad he didn't bring the trench coat because someone has, at some point he can’t quite place, spilled beer over him.

At the start of hiss fifth drink, Balthazar reappears again and holds the cup away from him just as Castiel was bringing it to his lips.

“Wow, wow, how many have you had already, Cas?” he asks his younger brother, not without grinning with amusement. “You… look funny.”

Castiel’s pulled his sleeves up and his hair’s a mess, sweat running down the side of his forehead. There's a stain of beer in his shirt and his eyes look unfocused sometimes. He’s also wearing a constantly confused look on his face, like he’s trying to concentrate non stop of a difficult equation, but at the same time he grins from time to time. It’s by all means hilarious in Balthazar’s standards, but he’d rather keep it that way and not let Cas pass his limit and throw up.

“Four, going on five,” Cas answers. He sways a little on the tip of his toes.

“Hey, Cas, don't miss this, I’m about to win!” Benny says, shaking his shoulder frantically. It nearly makes the half-drunk boy trip and fall.

“Yeah, I think that's enough for now,” Baltz says, offering his cup instead.

“What's this?”

He smells it out of habit, but there’s no strong smell coming from the cup.

“Water, Cas, water!” Balthazar shouts into his ear. “Hey, Benny, make sure he eats something, will you? Kid’s got zero alcohol tolerance.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.”

Benny proceeds to drag Cas back to the kitchen, completely forgetting about the game, and both of them stand in front of the fridge together, contemplating their options.

“Whatcha want?” Benny asks him, dragging his words a little.

“This isn't my fridge.”

Benny snorts. “Yeah, no shit, Cas. Don't worry about it, come on, pick something.”

Cas hesitates. There's plenty to choose from but he hasn't even greeted the owner of the house tonight ( _how rude of me_ , he thinks all of a sudden) and he doesn't want to overstep the line, so he goes for a simple carrot.

A girl laughs behind him as Castiel begins to chew the plain vegetable.

“What’s up, doc?” she says.

Cas turns around and finds himself face to face with Hannah.

“Excuse me?” Cas tilts his head in confusion, looking around to make sure he’s the one being addressed.

“Bugs Bunny?” she offers him.

“He doesn’t watch TV,” Benny tells her, shaking his head, his eyes slightly closed.

“Oh, I remember, Balthazar used to complain all the time about that,” she says.

“How do you know that?”

“Your brother’s a legend, Cas,” Benny tells him, then picks up another cup of something, anything, and hands it to Cas.

“Aren’t they all?” Cas wonders out loud. Yes, all Novaks have a reputation of some kind. “All but me.”

“Don’t say that,” Hannah tells him, touching his arm for a moment, “you have a reputation too.”

“Really?” Cas asks, feeling a span of ache in his heart. He’d always liked to think people ignored him, his existence, rather than to imagine them talking shit about him behind his back.

“Oh, yeah,” Benny smirks, elbowing his ribs as he lifts his eyebrows, then proceeds to speak with a high pitched voice that poorly imitates that of a girl, “mysterious, handsome Castiel, why won’t you notice me?”

Hannah rolls her eyes, but she definitely blushes as well.

“I tell ya, Cas, every girl wishes they could be with a Novak. _Any_ Novak.”

Castiel starts laughing hard at the idea of women fantasizing about him. If only they knew what he fantasized about, they’d be disgusted.

Hannah punches his shoulder playfully. “Don’t laugh at girls!”

“I’m not laughing at girls,” he explains, “but rather at the idea of one wanting to be with me.”

“Why?” Benny says. “Handsome fella like you has a lot to offer, wouldn’t you agree, Hannah?”

The girl looks like a deer caught on the headlights, but the blush in her cheeks and the faint smile give her away. _Oh, fucking hell, she likes me,_ Cas thinks, suddenly panicking. And here he is with Benny, who seems quite the nice guy and Castiel likes him and wants his friendship, but now he’ll except Cas to make a move on Hannah, because why wouldn’t a perfectly normal 17 years old boy make a move on a girl that is being playful and blushing because of him?

The situation gets worse when a girl he knows to be his girlfriend suddenly hugs Benny and pulls him into a  fiery kiss. Cas is stunned by the display of affection, and the drunk guy stumbles backwards and into the counter as he puts his arms around his girl. Hannah and Castiel watch them for a second before looking away and at each other. She looks at him expectantly.

_What, does she expect me to kiss her?_

He panics even more and gulps nervously on his drink. He’s used to the burn by now but he still makes a disgusted face and this time doesn’t wear off.

“So…” he looks at her, trying to think what he should say or do but his mind is blurry and stupid and he can’t think of anything half-decent, half-smart. “Have you seen Dean?” is all he can come up with.

The girl looks at him for a couple of seconds. It feels like forever to Castiel. It’s clearly not what she wanted him to say.

“Hmm, yeah, I think he arrived a while ago. Big house, big party, it’s easy to miss people. He’s- he’s at the pool, I think,” she tells him, pushes a lock of hair behind her ear.

Castiel nods, throws his head back to finish the drink. That amount of alcohol consumed at once is like a slap to his face and he chews another chunk of carrot to battle the taste. He plants a hand on the wall for a second, opening his eyes in an attempt to focus them. The room seems to dance around him, the music louder than ever in his ears but at the same time it seems distant, like an echo.

“Thanks,” he says, “see you later.” But he has no intention of coming back, no will to pretend any interest in her.

Before she has any chance to say anything, he is pushing his way through the crowd of dancing people, even though he’s got no idea exactly where the pool is. It feels like an hour before he actually finds the goddamn room. Steam is coming off the hot water and a lot of people are gathered around the pool, with only a couple of them actually inside. Some people are wearing bathing suits, some girls are wearing shirts inside the pool. Others have only their feet inside the water as they sit on the edge of the pool.

And then Cas sees him, shirtless and inside the pool, Dean fucking Winchester playing with a ball and a group of people. The water’s at his waist, so his entire torso is free to stare at by anyone who wishes to do so. Oh, and how Castiel wishes to do so…

 _Holy shit, he’s hot,_ a wild, drunk side of him thinks and he’s pretty sure he’s gasping, staring, and there’s a ton shit of people around him.

 _Get a grip!_ whatever sane part's left of him yells at him.

Dean spots him just then. His face lights up when their eyes meet. “Cas!” he can hear him shouting, smiling at him.

Castiel panics once more. He doesn’t know why, but he’s turning around on his heels at the same time he’s waving at Dean and disappears back into the crowd of people. He can’t even remember where he gets the new cup of whatever he’s having, but he has it and he takes it to his lips. The more he drinks, the quicker he forgets about things, but the dark cloud that had been following him around all week is back. The pressure in his chest returns and it’s suffocating him. He feels trapped in the crowd, drowning in a sea of people. His breathing quickens, he closes his eyes, shuts them tightly. Cas grabs hold of his cup with so much force, the plastic folds under his fingers, liquid splattering all over the floor.

_I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I need air… air…_

He pushes people away, gaining some dirty looks from his fellows students, but he doesn’t care. He keeps going until he finds the front door and he’s out the door, out the porch and hurrying down the street. He’s hyperventilating and after a few steps he falls to the cold, hard ground on his knees.

_Why can’t I breathe? I still can’t breathe._

“Cas!”

He opens his eyes with a start. Dean is looking at him with concern, kneeling in front of him. He’s barefoot and wet, his hair pulled back dripping water, wearing nothing but his bathing suit. He observes Castiel for a moment, sees the tears in his eyes.

“Cas, are you alright? Why did you run away?”

“I needed to breathe,” he tells Dean, holding a hand against his chest, “I can’t breathe.”

The smell of alcohol coming from Castiel’s breath is unmistakable.

“Are you drunk?” Dean asks him, lifting Castiel’s face on his hands. “What and how much did you drink, exactly?”

“Beer, vodka, rum, I’m not sure… Five, six drinks? Seven?” he replies agitatedly. What does that even matter?

“Do you want to throw up? Sometimes it’s just better to throw up, man.”

“I don’t want to throw up!” he snaps, turning his head around to the side to break free from Dean’s touch. “I can’t- I just want to breathe. I feel-” he tries to find the words, but how can he even begin to describe the hurricane of thoughts in his mind? If they were blurry and confusing before, they’re just a terrible mess now that they’ve been fixed with alcohol. “ I feel- I _feel._ So much. It’s- maddening!”

Dean grabs his shoulders, keeps him grounded to the floor when Castiel tries to push him away. He doesn’t want Dean to touch him, he’s too beautiful and too close, and he’s not supposed to touch boys, but his friend’s strong and won’t let him go.

“Cas, I think you’re having a panic attack,” Dean tells him. He sounds concern. He _looks_ concern and it just makes him more fucking beautiful, in Castiel’s humble, drunken opinion. “Talk to me, alright? Just talk to me, let it out, man, I can help you. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with me, Dean?” he asks, voice cracking for a moment, tears gathering in his eyelashes. He looks up at his friends, pleading for an answer. “I don’t know what music I want to listen to, alright? Or what movies I want to watch. I don’t know myself. I don’t know what I like. I’m no one, I’m nothing. You want to help me? Tell me who to be. Please, just tell me. Tell me.”

As Castiel begins to sob, Dean watches him, completely stunned. He swallows hard, then says, “I can’t do that, Cas. I like who you are, I don’t want you to change. You wanna know who you are? You’re- you’re kind. And- and wonderfully weird, unique. You’re awkward but is suits you and- you’re considerate and everyone likes you-”

“No one even _knows_ me!”

“I do! I do, Cas, and I like you, alright? And- and it’s okay if you don’t know what music you like, do you hear me? It’s okay. I’ll take you out and we’ll figure it out together, we’ll go shopping for records and- and movies, and whatever you want. And it’s okay if you don’t like rock, I promise I’ll listen to whatever you want, we’ll just- we’ll just take turns picking the music, okay?”

Castiel looks at him long and hard for a moment, trying to catch his breath. He feels sick in his stomach. He looks down, unable to hold Dean’s gaze. It feels like a crushing weight. But slowly, as he tries to concentrate in the hands that are holding him on place, his breathing begins to slow down.

“That’s it, Cas, just breathe,” Dean tells him in a soothing voice. “It’s alright, Cas, it’s just the alcohol, man, you had too much to drink. I wish I’d known you were here earlier, I would have- I would have looked after you.”

“Why?” Cas asks, looking up. His blue eyes are big as the moon, the tears acting as magnifying glass. “Why do you even care about me? I was fine without you, you know? I was content in my loneliness. And then you come around and you make me hope again, that I could be different, that I could be a real person. And it backfired on me! So tell me, Dean, why? Why are you my friend to begin with?”

Dean hesitates. It’s not the time or place to answer that question, not with honesty at least, but for the tiniest fraction of a moment he considers telling Castiel the truth, just to taste the waters, thinking probably the other won’t even remember this tomorrow.

But then Balthazar is running towards them, stumbling a little in the way himself.

 _Jesus, the Novaks party hard,_ he thinks.

“Cas! Cas, are you okay? What’s wrong?” his brother asks him as he tries to push Cas to his feet.

“I wish to leave,” Cas says politely but dragging the words sloppily. It would have been funny, Dean thinks, had the circumstances been different.

Balthazar hesitates. “Buddy, if we go home right now, Michael’s gonna kill us, you’re- _we’re_ wasted as _fuck_.”

“You can crush with me,” Dean tells him, not waiting for a reply before he puts and arm around Castiel’s shoulder and starts dragging him towards the Impala. “I’ve plenty of room, come on.”

Dean leaves the Novak brothers waiting next to the car as he returns to the house for his clothes. He’s fucking freezing but only bothers to put his shoes on as he runs back to the car, not wasting any time to say goodbye to any of his friends although he had spent not more than half an hour on the party having arrived late (work will do that to you). He finds Anna before leaving, asks if she wishes to come with them but another friend of his offers to give her a ride home later on.

Cas is falling asleep on his feet, leaning against the car. With the help of Balthazar, they lay him down on the backseat and the odd group of three take off together.

“What happened?” he asks in a soft voice, glancing back at the backseat. His brother seems pretty out of it.

“I think he had a panic attack.”

Balthazar runs a hand down his face, sighing deeply. “Why? Why’d you say to him?”

Dean glances at him from the corner of his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Me? What makes you think _I_ caused this?”

“Well, he was fine until you got there,” Balthazar tells him. There’s an obvious hint of accusation in his voice and Dean cannot understand where it’s coming from, they’ve always had a very good relationship, all in all. “I like you, Winchester,” he goes on, voice dry and sober all of a sudden, “but if you hurt my brother-”

“Wow, wow, hey,” Dean raises a hand, keeps the other on the steering wheel, “the hell are you talking about, man?”

The blonde observes him for a moment. Is Dean paying dumb or is there really nothing between his brother and Dean?

“Nevermind. Just- just look after him, will you?”

Dean sighs. _What a fucking weird night._ “Of course, what are friends for, right?”

“Right. Friends,” Balthazar mumbles, wondering if that’s really all they are. He would have never suspected Dean to be into guys but the way he’d been holding Cas, the way he was looking at his younger brother… It was slightly suspicious.

Between the two of them, they carry a practically unconscious Castiel to Dean’s bedroom and lay him on the bed. Balthazar wastes no time before crushing on the couch while Dean goes to get a bucket and a glass of water, just in case Cas decides to get sick. When he turns back around, the blonde has already fallen asleep on the living room.

With a sigh, Dean lays a pillow on the floor next to his bed and looks up at Cas for a moment. He looks troubled, even in his sleep. He’s sweaty, smells like alcohol and sweat, and his hair is probably the messiest he’s ever seen it… But he looks beautifully vulnerable. He reaches with his hand, slowly, holding his breath, and pulls strands of dark hair away from Castiel’s eyes. He wishes to linger on the touch, to run his fingers through his hair, but Dean feels it’s wrong. _Not while he’s out, that’s not how I want it to be…_

He dreads the moment Castiel will wake up but he remains by his side all night nonetheless. He cannot comprehend the accusations his friend made earlier, but he understands that somehow it was him who has made Cas upset, and simply for being his friend.

 _What if he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore?_ he fears.

But he stays, unable to leave, watching over Cas through the dawn, until his friend suddenly wakes up and is turning around in confusion in the strange room, his body shaking. Dean puts the bucket in front of him just in time and pats his back while Cas throws up, then forces Cas to wash his mouth with water before drinking some of it.

“It’s alright, you’ll feel better now, Cas,” he tells him as he watches his friend lay down again. He’ll take care of the bucket once Cas falls back asleep.

His friend sighs, rolls on the bed with his eyes closed.

“Thank you,” he tells Dean as he curls into a ball, frowning with discomfort.

“Don’t mention it, Cas. I just- I hope we’re cool. You’re not ditching me, are you?”

Cas huffs a laugh, a short one. “No,” he mumbles. He takes a deep breath in and then out, then whispers. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“What for, Cas?”

“I yelled at you. I threw up in your bed.”

Dean smiles. “Sounds like a regular party to me, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Dean lays back on the ground again for a moment, watching his drunk friend fall asleep again.

“This is not how I imagined being in your room for the first time,” Cas mumbles slowly, groggily.

Dean’s heart skips a beat. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

“How- how did you imagine it would be like?”

But Castiel doesn’t answer, he’s already fallen back asleep. Dean waits, hoping he will wake up and answer, but he knows better. He takes care of the bucket with puke and then returns back to his friend’s side. He will stay there all night, all morning, always, as long as Castiel needs him to.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK.  
> Sorry for the long pause there, guys. I got some really bad news that kind of triggered my PTSD aaaand yeah, wasn't exactly in the mood to write for a while there while I was dealing with my shit. But I am back now! And I am feeling like writing, so I don't think we'll have a pause like this again (hopefully).  
> Thank you for sticking around with the story.  
> Enjoy!

Castiel is barely conscious when he becomes aware of the low rock music playing on the background. It brings him closer to reality as he realises something’s not right; he doesn’t listen to rock music. Or music, period. Then, a dull sensation of general discomfort starts spreading through his body, his entire muscles, his head, his brain. He groans before he opens his eyes to stare at a ceiling that isn’t his room’s.

“Heya, Cas,” a familiar voice speaks softly, raspy with exhaustion, “how are you feeling?”

Dean’s question is answered with another groan from the boy with blue eyes, who rolls in the unfamiliar bed to see his friend laying on the ground. He seems to have spent the night of the floor with nothing but a pillow. Cas can’t even remember getting to the bed, but he wishes it was him on the floor and not poor Dean.

“Damn, Cas,” Dean laughs, “you party hard, my friend. No doubt you’re a Novak now.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” he mumbles, the sound of his own voice too loud for his aching head. He observes Dean for a moment; he’s got his arms behind his head. The position makes his biceps flex slightly, enough to delineate his muscles, to show off their lovely, strong shape. He’s smiling, looking tired yet relaxed, his hair sticking out in many directions. He looks utterly beautiful, if not sexy as fuck. Cas gulps and looks away, rolling back on his back, trying to contain his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’ve got to say, in  _ your _ case, buddy, maybe tone it down a bit next time,” Dean teases him, sitting up to look at Cas. “If you wanna start drinking, you’ve gotta start slow and build some resistance, or be ready to crash.”

“I don’t  _ ever _ wish to drink again.”

Dean smirks, finding the situation all too amusing. “We all say that, Cas, and then we all drink again.”

Cas closes his eyes, starts rubbing his temples with a sigh. He feels like a car ran over him. As far as he knows, maybe he  _ was _ . He’s not sure how that would feel like, he’s never been ran over by a car, but he’s sure this must be it. His mere existence hurts. 

“Your head hurts, doesn’t it?” Dean asks. He doesn’t open his eyes but simply nods twice. It hurts too.

He hears Dean get to his feet and walk out of the room. Alone in the room, he finally opens his eyes to look around the place while there’s no danger of being hypnotized by the sight of Dean. The room is small, at least half as small as his. There’s a small closet against the wall and a desk in front of it. It looks ancient, with scratches in the sides. He sees the initials  _ D.W.  _ and  _ S.M.  _ carved on it and he smiles; Michael would go  _ crazy _ if anyone dared carve something like that in any furniture at their home. In the shelves, there are a couple of books, CDs and cassettes, and of course trophies that tell tales of Dean’s long history of success in sports. He gets up to take a better look at the books, but there’s a sting in the front of his head that blinds him for a moment as he tries to sit up.

“Stay in bed a little longer, Cas, trust me,” Dean instructs him as he appears back in the room again, holding a cup of coffee and an aspirin out to him. 

Cas sits with his back against the wall, sipping coffee after taking the aspirin, while Dean sits back down on the floor, hugging his knees as he observes his friends for a moment. There are many things he wishes to ask, but he hesitates to speak. What is he expecting to hear, anyway? What exactly does he want to accomplish? How much of last night does the blue eyed boy even remember?

“Hey, so…” he licks his lips, choosing his words carefully, “betcha last night’s kind fuzzy, huh? What do you remember?”

“Loads of alcohol,” Cas answers, sighing again. “I remember… I remember Benny. Yes, we drank together.”

“You and Benny?” Dean smiles, pleasantly surprised, the idea of his two favourite friends together making him childishly happy.

“Yes. He was very nice. He stayed with me until- I think his girlfriend arrived…” Cas wonders out loud, screwing up his face as he struggles to remember.

“Do you remember… err… you had a bit of a… an outburst,” Dean says cautiously. 

Castiel blushes, making himself small as he braces himself for some bad news. 

_ Oh, no,  _ he thinks, his heart racing, his eyes wide with terror,  _ what did I do? What did I  _ say _? _

“Oh, really?” he asks dumbly, avoiding Dean’s eyes, shame and fear washing over him.

“Yeah, Cas, you did…”

Dean watches him for a moment, sees Castiel all nervous and small, and he hates that his friend feels like that in his presence.

“I think- I think you had a panic attack, Cas,” he continues, tone soft and free of judgement. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, I’ve had them too, you know?” Dean admits, but he  _ does _ feel slightly embarrassed. Being always too hard on himself, he sees his own outbursts as signs of weaknesses, although he’d never tell anyone else who had them that they’re weak. “There are three things you can do about it. First option is to let it consume you. Now, I don’t think that’s what you want to do.”

Cas shakes his head. “What are the other options?” he asks shyly, looking at Dean through his eyelashes.

“Well, another option is to see a therapist. No shame in that either.”

“Have you?”

It’s Dean’s turn to blush. “No, I- I couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah…” Dean scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, then clears his throat before he continues. “Third option, Cas, is to make some changes in your life. Last night you said-”  _ you said it was my fault, somehow,  _ he thinks, but he can’t bring himself to say that to Castiel right now, not when he looks so vulnerable, so breakable. That’ll be a conversation for another day, if he ever has the guts to ask about it, “you said you didn’t know yourself and I promised I’d help… Remember any of that?”

His friend shakes his head, half-hiding behind the mug, cheeks burning a hot pink.

“I promised I’d help you figure out what things you like. You know, books, music, whatever… But, Cas,” Dean stands up and slowly sits down on the edge of the bed. The mattress sinks under his weight and Castiel’s leg moves to touch Dean’s back. It’s stupid, childish even, how the contact makes Cas tremble. “Cas, you have to talk to me. I’m your friend. Trust me. Talking about whatever’s troubling you… it’ll help, I promise.”

The young Novak takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes locked on the cup of coffee that warms his hands. Dean is so close, he’s distracted from the subject of relevance for a moment. He can’t remember last night, but today somehow he knows something’s changed. The presence of his friend’s making him nervous. It’s not a bad kind of nervous, but that kind that makes your heart skip a beat and your mind regress to childish behaviours. How he had managed to go so long not realising just how devastatingly handsome Dean really was, he doesn’t know, but know it was clearer than ever and his proximity was making him slightly out of breath.

_ Think, say something, anything,  _ he orders himself nervously.  _ Stop thinking about him! _

“I just feel…” he takes a deep breath, looking for the right word as he tries to stay focused, “ _ lost _ , I guess. And this senior year… There’s so much pressure, you know? To choose not just a school, but to be accepted into it, and to choose whatever we’re supposed to do for the rest of our lives. How are we supposed to know what? We’ve got no real world experiences.”

“Actually, I  _ don’t  _ know,” Dean confesses, “I’m not going to college.”

“ _ What _ ?” Cas looks up, forgetting why he’d been avoiding Dean’s eyes for a moment. He looks like Dean’s just confessed to murder. “Why not?”

Dean shrugs. “I just don’t think it’s for me. I don’t really think they’ll teach me anything I want to learn that I can’t learn right here working with Bobby. I’m going to stay here, work in the shop, maybe take some mechanic courses. I’ll take care of Sam, raise some money for his college fund while I’m at it. I just… I don't think college is going to make me happy.”

As the words flow out naturally, Dean realises for the first time that he is actually content with this decision. Making it had been stressing and had caused him a great deal of anxiety. Was it the right choice or was it a mistake to turn his back on higher education? But now, as he said the words out loud, he realised it was the truth. For better or for worse, he wasn’t going. College wasn’t his thing, it wasn’t going to make him happy. He imagined himself away, living in some small room with some stranger, away from his brother and from the rest of his family, studying something he probably really didn’t care for for the sake of maybe making more money on the future… No, it wasn’t what he wanted, it wasn’t going to make him happy.

Castiel takes a deep breath, hugging his knees. “Must be nice to be so sure of yourself.”

“I wasn’t always, Cas. It was a hard decision to make, but I chose what I thought was going to make me happy. What about you, Cas? Do you even want to go to college?”

The other young man thinks about it for a moment. He doesn't have a doubt in his mind that he does, but to do what exactly, he has no idea. “I do, but I don't want to go into business school like my brothers want me to. Balthazar’s doing it already and by what he tells me about it, I don't think I'd care for it. I don't have the type of personality needed either, I think. They’re all so… so competitive, so ruthless. I don’t think I’m cut out for that.”

“Then what do you want to study? What do you see yourself doing in 10 years?”

Castiel becomes small under the pressure of such a simple question. What he wants to do, who he is and must be for the rest of his life, he has no idea. 

Dean watches his brow furrow with concern and he shyly plants a hand over his knee. “You still have time to decide, Cas. And it’s not a death sentence. It’s just school. Okay? We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“We?” Cas repeats, his voice carefully neutral.

His friend blushes and shrugs, “yeah… you and me.”

They’re so close. Dean has Castiel right where he wants him. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him. There’s a mad side of his brain that tells him he should, fuck it all, just lean closer and do it, and he freezes for a moment as his rebellious brain actually considers doing the unthinkable. 

But then Cas looks behind him, into the corridor, and he turns around to see Balthazar looking at them. The other Novak has a terrible case of bedhead and one could just tell by his posture and the way his eyes don’t fully open that he is hungover too.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he begins with a slight smirk, and if looks could kill, he would have dropped dead in the floor with the way Castiel was glaring at him, “but we should really go, Cas. If we miss lunch too, our dear bro is going to be livid.”

“Lunch?” Cas gasps with horror, his eyes running around the room in search of a clock as he leaves the mug on the desk. “What time is it!”

“Nearly 12.30,” his brother replies.

Castiel sneaks out of the bed through the small space between Dean and the desk and jumps to his feet, frantically looking for his shoes.

“Jesus, Balthazar, why didn’t you wake me up earlier!” Castiel hisses under his breath as he struggles to put his shoes on. 

“Cause I wasn’t  _ awake _ , Sherlock! You’re the one that was up, should have woken me up instead of having some heart to heart talk here with your-”

The boy with dark hair shuts him up with a death glare before his brother has the chance to say something stupid like ‘boyfriend’. 

“What’s going on?” Dean asks, following the pair of brothers out of his room and into the living-room.

“We missed Sunday mass!” Castiel informs him, eyes wild with concern. He looks like he is going to be sick again as he looks around the room searching for his coat.

“Okay…”

Dean knew Castiel’s family was religious, but  _ seriously _ ?  _ This  _ bad? 

Balthazar seems to know where Dean’s mind is at because he then explains, “our older brothers are very religious, they hate when we miss Sunday Mass. They think Gadreel and I go to Sunday Mass at the university’s church,” he laughs, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“You don’t?” Cas scolds him, frowning at his brother.

“It’s  _ Sunday _ , Cas! We  _ party _ on Saturdays, like normal people. No one wants to go to Sunday Mass in college, trust me,” Balthazar shoots back, then grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him towards the door. “Now stop looking for your coat, you didn’t bring it last night, remember? Jesus, Cas, I don’t say this often but you’ve gotta tone down your drinking, bro.”

“Oh, right,” his brother mumbles, allowing his sibling to lead him outside.

Dean offers them a ride to their friend’s house to get Castiel’s car. It’s parked right where he had left time the night before, waiting patiently for the return of its owner. Castiel looks at it for a moment, wondering if he is still legally drunk and shouldn’t drive. By the way Balthazar is falling asleep on his feet, he figures his older brother shouldn’t drive either.

“Want me to drive you?” Dean offers as he watches him hesitate to get behind the steering wheel.

“No,” Cas dismisses the offer right away, “no, that’d be- no, we’ve inconvenienced you enough.”

“Don’t worry about me, Cas. I asked you a simple question; do you want me to drive you or not?” Dean insists.

Cas bites his lower lip for a moment as he regards Dean. He is still wearing that thin t-shirt that accentuates his muscles, he looks tired but the lovely light that escapes through the clouds makes his freckles stand out and make him look beautiful. The wind blows his short hair backwards. He looks so sure of himself, so faithful as he stands in front of Castiel, offering time and time again his help. How did he ever manage to befriend this person? Why did he, all of a sudden, get to be lucky enough to have Dean? Or was it a punishment too, to have someone to marvellous right next to him and yet out of his reach? Because he doesn’t want to be just friends with him anymore, not now that he realises just how much Castiel really likes him.

“Will you two just  _ please _ stop looking at each other and just  _ drive _ ?” Balthazar moans, face-palming himself as he leans against the passenger’s door impatiently.

Dean leans into Castiel’s personal space and takes the keys from his hand. “Do you  _ ever _ shut up?” he shoots back at Balthazar as he climbs into the driver’s seat, avoiding Castiel’s eyes as his ears turn red with embarrassment. 

Balthazar just grins mischievously as he shakes his head. “Not ever, right, Cas?”

“Not ever,” Castiel sighs. Dean can’t help but smile.

When they get close to their house, Balthazar turns around on his seat and says, “let me do the talking, alright? It’s not my first time missing Sunday Mass. Michael will be pissed, I’ll handle him. You just shut up and go along with whatever I say.”

Cas nods obediently and Dean remains silent, a part of him pitying the brothers. Castiel’s eldest siblings always sounded like assholes to him, but the level of fear the younger Novaks show is just unacceptable. He cannot imagine Sam feeling that way about him. An older brother is supposed to make his siblings feel safe and loved, not anxious and concerned.

Dean climbs out of the car, glancing at the house for a moment with a frown, as if he were frowning right at Michael that way. He puts the keys on the cars in Castiel’s hands and then buries his hands on his pockets. He wishes he’d brought a jacket, it’s kind of chilly and being sleepy just makes him feel colder.

“Sorry about all this,” Cas laments. He knows Dean is going to have to walk to get his car back and then drive home. Not to mention he vomited in his bed, probably ruined the part for him last night and was a total party pooper that morning too with a very early existential crisis.

“Don’t sweat it, Cas. Next party, just stick with me, alright? I’ll control your drinks. Benny’s too hardcore for you,” he smiles.

He returns the smile, nodding.  _ Next party.  _ That’s an invitation he wants to say yes to so badly, he can’t wait for the next one now. He had never before looked forward to social gatherings.

Balthazar rolls his eyes at them and grabs Castiel by the back on his neck softly. “Bye now, Dean,” he tells the younger boy with a mocking tone, shaking his head at the pair of them.

“Oh, jee, you’re welcome for the ride, Baltz,” Dean shouts back at him.

“Much appreciated!” Balthazar does a very exaggerated bow as he continues to lead his brother towards the house. 

Castiel waves awkwardly back at Dean, just the way he likes. It makes the Winchester smile from ear to ear and he marches home feeling rather content as he chases the sunlight through the clouds.

Almost as soon as the Novak boys are inside the house, Michael descends on them. He looks very frustrated as he folds the newspaper in half and strides towards them. Balthazar takes a step forward and stands between his brothers with determination, looking suddenly more awake but still trying to keep that easy-going expression in his face. Show no fear, no trepidation, that’s what he needed to deal with his brothers, he’d learned.

“I know what you’re going to say, we missed the morning mass,” the young man with blond hair starts. There’s respect in his voice but also a little impatience. “I will take Cas to mass in the afternoon, right after lunch, okay?”

“You think I’ll let this pass that easily?” Michael asks, tone lone but full of authority. He’s never had to raise his voice to be scary. He looks at Castiel when he continues, “where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

_ I bet _ . Cas wants to roll his eyes but he knows better.

“We were too drunk to drive home,” Balthazar explains. “Now, you wouldn’t want us driving drunk, would you?” He looks expectantly at his brother; he knows he’s got him there, Michael can’t say no to that excuse. “We happened to run into Cas’ girl, she offered us to crash at her place, so we figured it was better than driving drunk, wouldn’t you agree, brother?”

Castiel wants to kick the back of his brother’s knees, but he keeps still and as collected as possible as Michael’s eyes remain on him. 

_ Cas’ girl? _ he shouts inside the privacy of his mind. He doesn’t like adding fuel to that lie he’s started, he just knows it will come back to bite him in the ass, he can almost feel it coming.

“That girl Hannah? You’re… dating her?” Michael inquiries. 

Under the heavy weight of Michael’s eyes, Castiel freezes. He swallows hard, feeling his mouth suddenly dry. 

_ What’s the correct answer? What do I say? _

Balthazar jumps in to rescue him. “Jesus, Michael, don’t pressure him. You know kids these days, they take forever to settle, am I right?”

Michael looks at Balthazar with a little annoyance. “I expect better from my own brothers, Balthazar. I’d better not hear anymore about  _ your _ own escapades with girls at college,” he warns him, pointing a finger at him. Balthazar looks surprised, for once. “That’s right, I have some contacts at school. I’ve eyes everywhere. If you get a girl pregnant, so help my God you’re getting married, young man. Do you hear me?”

The young man with blond hair rolls his eyes but a more serious, pressing glare from his brother has his sobering up.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, accepting defeat so the subject can be dropped. He really doesn’t feel like debating his right to have (protected, thank you very much) sex with whoever he wishes. And he doesn’t even consider stopping, he’ll just have to be more careful when sneaking around.

“Don’t follow your brother’s example, Castiel,” Michael preaches, “and I expect to meet this girl soon if you continue to see her. Lunch will be served in 15 minutes. Have a shower, you two reek, and dress nicely for the mass.”

As soon as Michael turns around, Balthazar rolls his eyes at him. Everytime he comes home to visit, he remembers why he’s always so eager to leave. He wonders if he will even return, once Castiel and Anna are gone too.

“Why did you have to include Hannah in this?” Castiel hisses under his breath, low enough that no one else with hear, but making sure he is still conveying enough anger. “Every time they mention her, they say they want to meet her. We’re not even  _ friend _ !”

“Well, if you’re going to keep that lie up, I advice you to befriend her quickly. They think she’s curing the gay out of you,” Balthazar rolls his eyes so much they’re nearly all white. “If you’re going to continue seeing that Winchester-”

Castiel blushes. “I’m not  _ seeing _ Dean!” he objects. 

“And why not, exactly?”

“Cause he’s not  _ gay _ ?”

“Let me tell you something, Cassie; I don’t look at dudes the way he was looking at you this morning. And  _ you  _ definitely like him, it’s sad to watch actually.”

Cas is burning up with embarrassment. Balthazar laughs and pats his back.

“Oh, jeez, you really  _ are _ clueless, aren’t you?”


	14. Chapter 14

It isn’t a short distance to Fred’s house, not on foot at least, but Dean isn’t about to leave Baby parked outside his friend’s house all day. Not to mention he needs to get back home, pick up Sammy and drive to Bobby’s for lunch. He doesn’t need to glance down at his watch to know he’s late, but he does it anyway, then rubs his arms with his hands as a chilly breeze dances around him. The clouds gather closer together in the sky, greedily hiding away the warm rays of sunshine that had kept Dean barely warm on the surface as he walked on and on. He’s cold. He feels like he’s been cold ever since last night. When he’d run out of the pool after Castiel, he hadn’t had time to change into warm, dry clothes. It was one thing to be in the indoor pool, where the water was warm, and another thing was running outside all wet with just his swim shorts on. He’d barely run back into the house to get his stuff, to worried about Cas to leave him waiting outside, all drunk and agitated, for too long, and afterwards he’d stupidly laid on the floor with the wet clothes still on, the beauty that was Castiel (even drunk) distracting him from taking care of himself.

 _Classic Dean,_ he groans internally. He feels himself getting sick already and walking around with this worn out t-shirt wasn’t not going to help, he knows it.

It’s already 13.15 by the time he gets to his car. He drives home in a hurry, sneezes here and there in the middle.

_No, no way, I’m not getting sick, suck it up, dude._

Sam is waiting for him in the sofa and gets up as soon as he goes in. He looks pissed. “Dean,” he starts, huffing impatiently, “where were you? We're running super late!”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Let me get changed and we'll get going.”

He wishes he had time to have a shower with super hot water to make himself feel warmer again, but he knows Sam won't want to wait, so he quickly drops his shorts and puts on jeans, grabbing his leather jacket on his way out of the bedroom.

“Let’s,” sneeze, “go.”

“You'd better not be getting sick,” Sam warns him, keeping a safe distance from his brother as they walk out of the house, not even bothering to lock the door; Dean laughs at the idea of someone trying to steal something valuable from their home.

“It's just a sneeze, Sam, don't be so dramatic,” Dean dismisses him with a wave of his hand, sniffling loudly as he gets behind the steering wheel. “I just got cold last night, that's it.”

“I have exams coming up, I can't afford to get sick,” Sam mumbles nervously. He always gets moody during exams, which Dean tolerates because, after all, at least the kid’s going to have a bright future, but he needs to learn how to deal with exams without become a little jerk. “And will you please keep it down when your friends come over?”

“Jesus, Sam, okay. I’m sorry, alright? Get off my back, already,” Dean tells him, his own patience ticking with his brother's attitude. “It's not like I am _always_ noisy, okay? Cas needed my help last night, he was _wasted_.”

“Oh, Cas stayed over last night?”

Sam’s tone changes right away, the annoyance gone and replaced with a slight teasing edge. Dean looks quickly to the side, sees his brother smirking with a knowing look, and he punches him softly on the arm.

“God, what's with you today? It wasn't like _that_!”

“I don't know, I don't judge,” his brothers smiles, “but I know what it means when you come home with a girl so I figured-”

“I said it wasn't like that!” Dean repeats, ears burning a strong shade of red. Sam laughs.

“Bet you wish it was, though.”

“Keep up the smartass talk and you'll have to walk home this afternoon,” Dean warns him with fake anger. He shifts in his seat, drowning in embarrassment. There's a silence for moment, then he can't help confessing, because he needs to talk about it with someone else and Sam’s the only one he can trust in, “I really do like Cas. I’m kind of worried about him. You should have seen him last night, he was a mess.”

“Why? What happened to him?”

The honest concern in his brother’s voice sends a wave of affection for him running through Dean. It’s stupid but he loves that Sam likes Cas already, that he cares about him. Sam’s approval has always been important to him, although the other probably doesn’t even know it, but Dean could never date someone who didn’t get along with the only blood relative he treasured.

“He had a panic attack. I knew he was hiding something, I could tell, all week, there was something bothering him, but he just wouldn't talk to me. And then last night he got really drunk and it just blew up in his face.”

“Well, that sounds familiar,” Sam mumbles under his breath. Dean doesn't quite hear him.

Dean coughs. Sam gives him an wary look, jumps out of the car as soon as his older brother stops the car as if to outrun from the germs.

“Seriously, Dean, you should take something,” he insist as they walk towards the door.

“I am fine, I’ll be fine.”

A bit of a cold and some coughs is nothing he can’t handle. Over all, his immune system is something to envy (and thank God for that because he couldn't afford visiting the hospital or many antibiotics a year). Dean gets sick no more than twice a year, if he even gets sick that many times. He may have some sore throats here and there and mild headaches through the year but they never escale to something serious and he always pushes himself to keep going. He argues sometimes that getting sick depends a lot on one's state of mine and that he simply doesn't allow himself to get sick. He has to work, train, keep up with school and take care of Sammy, he has no time to be laying in bed with a fever, so he just doesn't.

Bobby gives them an earful about being so late. Sam is quick to blame it on Dean.

“He was busy driving his boy-” Dean kicks him real hard under the table before he can finish the word, shooting him daggers with his eyes. Sam jumps in his seat and stares right back at his brother looking somewhat guilty; he hadn't meant to almost out Dean in front of the family with his jokes. “Cas- he was driving Cas home.”

Bobby, Jo and Ellen eye them with curiosity for a moment. Dean sneezes, which distracts Ellen, whose hand flies to his forehead.

“Boy, you're sneezing an awful lot, Dean,” she says.

Dean leans against the gentle touch for a moment, although he rolls his eyes, always keeping with tough facade up. “I'm fine.”

“Aren't you always?” she replies, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Yes, I am, as a matter of fact,” Dean agrees with a smug nod and fills up on steak and mashed potatoes.

After lunch, he feels heavy with food and exhaustion, the lack of sleep from last night finally catching up with the party boy. He sits next to Bobby in the couch, making himself small as he struggles to remain awake, but the tv just seems to rock him to sleep. Under this roof, with Bobby’s quiet but strong presence, in the comfortable couch, Dean feels at home, safe and welcomed. He barely registers Bobby throwing a quilt over him. By the time he opens his eyes again, somehow feeling more tired than before, the sky is dark outside already. He stretches and notices right away that his joints are starting to hurt.

 _Fuck_ . _No. I am_ not _going to get sick!_

“Sammy,” he groans, voice raspy and tired, looking around with eyes half closed in search of his brother, “come on, let's go.”

Sam and Jo walk into the living room, and along with Bobby they all observe him for a moment.

“Dean, why don't you stay for dinner?” the older man offers. “You look…”

“You look like shit,” Jo finishes for him.

Dean scoffs, but he isn't truly offended. He _feels_ like shit, so he probably just looks the part too. “Can't do, I have stuff I need to read for tomorrow, I haven't touched a book all weekend.”

He spent the entire afternoon on Saturday working with Bobby and Sunday was just a wasted day. He had to do _something_ , open up some books and read them, of he’d fail _everything_ . Okay, no, he wasn’t going to college, but he still had some dignity and he wasn’t looking forward to failing every class. He wanted to at least graduate from high school and no be a _total_ screw up. And he needs to prepare dinner and something for lunch for tomorrow so Sam won’t have to eat the disgusting food they serve at the cafeteria.

But when he arrives home, he still has that feeling of weighing a ton more overnight. He drags his feet to the kitchen and starts preparing some quick, easy pasta for dinner while he tries to think what he could possible make for lunch in 5 minutes.

“Dean,” Sam calls him, appearing right beside him, eyeing his older brother with worry, “why don’t you go lay down? I can manage pasta on my own. I’ll make some sandwiches for tomorrow.”

Dean sighs, shakes his head. “You’ve already had sandwiches last week, Sam. I can’t just feed you bread and turkey forever.”

“I’ll make veggie sandwiches.” He laughs when Dean wrinkles his nose. “I like them! And you get me to eat my vegetables too.”

Running a hand down his face in easy defeat, Dean drags himself to the couch. His backpack is right there on the floor beside the furniture, exactly where he had left it on Friday. He takes a book out, the first one his fingers find, and lays down to rest, kicking his shoes off as he goes. He can’t concentrate on the words. There’s not enough lighting but he feels more light would bother his eyes at the same time. His eyelids feel heavy too, just like the rest of his body, and he’s got this annoying feeling of feeling cold in some parts of his body and warm in others.

Sam wakes him up when dinner’s ready. He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep. He looks down at the food, moving it from side to side with his fork, not really hungry, although he tries to force himself to eat out of sheer stubbornness, to prove he is fine, because normally he would be starving by now. Finally, he calls it quits and goes to bed, praying he’ll feel better in the morning.

He doesn’t. Sam wakes up earlier, fearing Dean will be sick, and he guesses right. Dean doesn’t wake up when he knocks on the door so he opens it anyway, to find his older brother sweating and shaking at the same time under the covers. It only takes a moment of touching Dean’s forehead to know he’s got a fever.

“Dean,” Sam calls his brother gently, shaking him slightly.

Slowly, Dean opens his eyes. It takes a moment for him to focus his eyes.

“Damn, what time is it? Are we running late?”

Dean starts to sit up, never ceasing to shiver, but Sam puts a hand on his shoulder to force him to lay back down.

“Stay in bed, Dean. I was just going to ask you if you want some tea. I think there’s some ibuprofen on the bathroom, I think.”

“I’m fi-”

“You’re burning up! You’re not fine!”

“I don’t have time to be sick,” Dean retorts.

“Well, too bad, cause you are! You’re a public health menace, you can’t go to school like this.” Sam pulls the covers further up Dean’s body and pushes him down every time his brother tries to sit up again. “You need to stay in bed.”

“No, I need to drive you to school at least.”

Sam snorts. “And get yourself killed? Yeah, no. I’ll walk. It’s okay, Dean, I woke up early, I’ve time. Now, _please_ , stay in bed, I’ll be right back.”

Sam is surprised when Dean doesn’t argue and rolls onto his side again. He runs to the kitchen to heat up some water for his brother, searches the bathroom cabinet in search of painkillers or something for the fevers. There’s no more ibuprofen left. There are some antibiotics, but it would be reckless to just pop random pills into Dean’s mouth when he’s not sure what he’s sick with. He wonders for a moment what he should do, and decides to call Bobby. The man doesn’t pick up the phone at his house, so he tries the shop instead. It goes into voicemail.

_He’s probably too busy._

Still, he leaves him a message.

Running out of options, Sam decides to cut school for the day if he can’t manage to get a hold of Bobby and ask him for help. Best case scenario, he’ll come around later and Sam will catch some classes, but he decides to at least get his brother something for the fever.

_I can’t just leave him alone like this. Dean’s so sick, he probably won’t even notice I didn’t go to school._

The boy makes the tea and lays it next to Dean on his desk, but his brother doesn’t seem to want tea at all. With a sigh, Sam takes for his brother’s wallet on his jacket and heads out to the pharmacy. He curses their father all the way to the shop.

 _He should be here, taking care of Dean,_ he thinks in anger. _We shouldn’t have to parent each other._

But the truth is, he doesn’t really mind. He would do it for Dean any day, without thinking. Missing school for his brother, once, after everything he does for him, is nothing.

On his way back, Castiel drives by on his car and sees him walking by. He doesn’t seem to be getting ready for school, there’s no backpack hanging from his shoulders, which is unusual; Dean wouldn’t let him skip school, he knows that much. And his older brother should also be driving him to school. So why is he running errands this early in the morning? Without thinking, he stops the car. Before Anna has a chance to ask him what he’s doing, Cas is running after Sam, calling him.

“Sam! Hey! Hi. Good morning.”

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Sam greets him rather lazily, his head full of negativity as he still curses John under his breath.

Cas stands there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. Is it even his place to meddle, to ask Sam why he’s apparently not going to school?

“Everything alright?” he asks, feeling rather lame. “You, hmm… Shouldn’t you be driving to school with Dean?”

“Dean’s sick, I was just getting him some Ibuprofen,” Sam reponds, lifting the small plastic bag with the pills inside.

“Is he alright? Did he catch a bug or something?”

Sam shrugs. “He got cold on the party and then yesterday walking home, and well, that and stress. I guess it finally caught up with him.”

Guilt is the automatic response for Castiel. It’s because of him that Dean got cold; he ran after him in the party, he drove him to his house, he slept of the floor because Castiel was in his bed and then he had to walk from the Novak’s house to Fred’s.

“And you’re going to miss school to look after him?” he guessed. Sam nodded, a _what else can I do_ kind of look in his face. “Sam, you shouldn’t. It’s my fault he’s sick. I- I’ll take care of him, you go to school.”

“Oh, no, Cas, really, it’s fine, you don’t have-”

“Yes, I do,” Cas insists. “Your brother’s sick because of me. Now come on or we’ll be late. We’ll pick up your backpack on the way.”

He doesn’t allow the Sam to argue; he’s not asking, he’s just informing him how things are going to go down. Mildly impressed and surprised by his friend’s sudden confidence, Sam follows him to the car, jumping on the backseat as a very confused Anna looks back and forth between the pair.

“Hi, I’m-”

“A Winchester, I know,” she says, sounding more impolite than she’d meant. She then turns around to look at his brother, who’s already driving away but not towards school as far as she can tell. “Cas, what are you doing? We’re going to be late.”

“Have we ever been late, Anna?” Cas retorts, his eyes never leaving the road.

Anna folds her arms and sighs with annoyance, yet defeat too. “No,” she admits between gritte teeth.

“Then don’t hurry me.”

Sam sits back against the seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable presencing the tense atmosphere between the siblings. When Castiel stops the car in front of his house, he bolts to get his backpack. He stops for a moment to check on Dean; he’s sleeping, it seems, and he hasn’t stopped trembling or sweating ever since he left, apparently.

“Dean?” he ventures softly, but his brother doesn’t even flinch in recognition, so Sam leaves kwnoging Cas will be back soon to look after him.

Once inside the car, he hands Cas the Ibuprofen. “If he doesn’t respond to it at all, take him to the hospital. Otherwise, Dean prefers not to go to hospitals. We usually just sweat fevers off.”

Cas nods at the same time Anna snaps her head around to frown at him.

“What? You're going to _skip_ school?”

Anna looks confused, torn between congratulating his brother for sending the rules flying out of the window for once in his life and scolding him for doing something that could ultimately get him in trouble.

“Yes, I am. And I’d appreciate if you didn't tell Michael. Or Lucifer.”

“No, of course not, Cas, but- what if they find out?”

“They won't, if you don’t tell on me.”

“Damn, Cas,” she nods, impressed, “look at you, acting like a proper trouble-maker Novak.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, stops the car nust outside the school’s parking lot to avoid running into any professor.

“I’ll pick you up later, okay? Both of you.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam tells him, pating his shoulder once before he walks out with Anna. He likes it, the nickname is growing in him, just as Sam is. Apparently, the feeling is returned.

A couple of minutes later, he is back at Dean’s house, opening the door slowly and shyly, feeling a bit uncomfortable just coming into someone else's house without knocking, but by what Sam’s told him it was better not to bother Dean by ringing the bell.

“Dean?” he calls as he takes a step in, closing the door behind him.

No one answers.

He lays his backpack on the ground and walks the short distance to his friend's room. There Dean is, buried under the covers like his life depends on it, trembling and clenching his muscles so hard they ache, as he tries to further roll into himself, chasing his own warmth.

Castiel takes another few steps towards him, calls his name again but Dean seems to be too out of it to register the call.

 _This is my fault_ , Cas thinks, a wave of self-loathing overpowering him. If only he hadn't gone to the stupid party, or if he had a better handle on alcohol, or if he just would have talked to Dean instead of having that ridiculous outburst on Saturday night (or Sunday early morning, whichever you prefer).

He roams around the house looking for a bucket, then retrieves a small towel from the bathroom. He drags the old wooden chair in Dean's room the closest he can to the bed and sits down with the bucket by his feet. He wets the towel, twists in on in itself to get rid of the excess water, and gently lays it over Dean’s forehead. His friend jerks away from it in his sleep, but Cas chases him and again laids the wet fabric over the skin.

“Dean? Dean, can you hear me?”

He tries to turn him around and shakes his shoulder softly.

“S-sam,” Dean says in a faint, barely audible voice, his words breaking as he shakes, “go- s-school-”

“Dean, it's me, Castiel. Come on, you need to take this.”

He digs in his pocket for the ibuprofen and with a hand under Dean’s (sweaty) neck, he lifts his head up a little. “Open your mouth… Dean? Come on, please, open your mouth.” Miraculously, his friend obeys, though just barely. He lets the pill fall inside Dean’s mouth and then takes the now cold tea Sam had left before on the desk, bringing it to Dean’s lips. He barely takes a sip before he is squirming away again, eyes shut tightly, gripping the covers for dear life.

Castiel sighs as he looks down at Dean with worry. He hopes the Ibuprofen will work, otherwise he'll have to take him to the hospital.

He takes the towel and wets it again, slipping it a little down the collar of Dean’s shirt, then flipping it and pressing it to the back of his neck. Eventually he puts it again on Dean’s forehead, covering his eyes just barely.

Looking around the room, he founds a cassette player on the desk and several cassettes on the shelves against the wall. He looks down at Dean as if to ask for permission, but seeing that his friend will most likely be out for a while, he just goes for it. He picks the cassette on the top and puts it inside the small cassette player, bringing the old, worn out headphones to his year. He scans the back of the empty case for the name of the songs and realises there’s really no point because he doesn’t _know_ anything about music, he wouldn’t recognise the names of the bands if his life depended on it. He gets lost in the music, paying attention to the details so as to drown the rest of his feelings of guilt as he makes sure to keep the towel over Dean’s forehead wet. Some things he likes more than others, and it brings a smile to his fact; for once he’s making a choice of his own, and he’s getting to know himself. Blues apparently, he likes.

It seems forever, but it's only an hour after when Dean begins to very slowly stop shaking like he's in sub-zero weather. His jaw stays still and his lips part for a moment, let out a deep groan. Dean rolls to face Cas, one of his hands coming to grab his wrist just as Cas was about to wet the towel again. He brings the hand closer to him, hugging it with his body as his frown begins to relax a little. Castiel feels slightly guilty for enjoying it because Dean probably doesn’t even know he’s doing this, but he still does. He leans backwards and closes his eyes, a thumb drawing circles over one of Dean’s hand. Little by little, he starts to doze off himself.

The faint call of his name brings him back to his senses. He looks down to see that Dean’s let go of his hand (probably for the best, friends don’t just hold hands while they sleep) and he’s looking up at him through barely opened eyes. He sits up and tears the headphones off his ears, smiling down at his sick companion.

“Dean, hello. How are you feeling?”

He takes the towel from Dean’s forehead and wets it again, wringing it out before he sets it back where it belongs. Dean’s smile is weak and faint but his tired eyes carry a great deal of gratitude. He looks like he could fall back asleep at any moment.

“Where’s Sammy?”

“He’s at school. Here, have some tea.”

Castiel holds Dean’s head up as he brings the cup to his lips. Dean lets him handle him; he’s too out of it, too in pain, to care about his dignity or something stupid like keeping his tough appearance up.

“Dean, don’t you think we should go to the hospital?”

Dean shakes his head and closes his eyes as he curls up again under the covers.

“No doctors,” he mumbles, already starting to drift off again. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know. But I will.”

Dean smiles despite himself, if only for a second, but Cas sees it.

“Rest some more, Dean, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

When it’s close to midday, Castiel wanders into the kitchen. There isn’t a lot to work with in the fridge, so he ends up making himself a sandwich, and some mashed potatoes for Dean, who never really wakes up long enough to eat it, so he puts the rejected food in the fridge after a while.

He gets up with a start when he hears the front door open.

“Sam? You in here, boy?” Bobby’s now familiar voice comes floating from the living room.

“In here,” Cas says.

Bobby’s head appears from the corridor with a confused look on his face. He observes Dean for a moment, the towel in his head, and then looks back at Cas, his frown softening. There’s something close enough to affection in his eyes when they settle on the baby blues that are staring back at him.

“Didn’t think I’d find _you_ here,” he says, then grins ever so slightly under his beard, something that’s halfway teasing but also warm, “but then again, I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot of you.”

Castiel blushes slightly, returning the smile.

 _I’d like that,_ he thinks. He likes Dean’s family, and he mostly likes _Dean._ He too, hopes, that he’ll be around for long.

“It’s my fault he’s sick, it’s the least I could do.”

“There’s one thing you should know about Dean,” Bobby starts, leaning against the wall as he looks down at the boy in the bed. “He’s softer than he looks, inside I mean. He pretends a lot, he hurts in silence. It’s been a hard couple of weeks for him, I think it just all caught up to him and this bug finished pushing him off the edge.”

There’s a flash of resentment behind Bobby’s eyes, and Cas is sure it’s directed at the boys’ father. He doesn’t know much about John Winchester, but he must admit he already doesn’t like the idea of him very much.

“Anyway,” Bobby clears his throat, “if you want to go to school, I can stay with Dean now.”

He should leave. He should thank Bobby, get up and go to school, but Castiel doesn’t move a muscle. It’s like he’s anchored to the chair, for as long as Dean needs him.

“That’s alright, I’ve already missed almost all my classes,” Cas shrugs. Bobby studies him for a moment and somehow the young man just knows the other can see through his bullshit, through his excuses, and he waits, mortified, for him to say anything, to call him out on it.

But he doesn’t.

“Alright. I’ll stay anyway, in case Dean gets worse. You wanna watch something on TV, boy?”

Cas shrugs and shyly gets up of the chair. He wets the towel once more before leaving it on Dean’s forehead and following Bobby to the living room. They watch TV together in comfortable silence, although Castiel continues to frequently check on Dean, make sure he has some water and wet the towel. Bobby observes him as he comes back, every time, never sharing his thoughts, but there’s something secret behind them that he just won’t share.

 _Can he tell I like him? Am I being too obvious?_ he wonders, worry spreading like wildfire. If he told Dean…

In the afternoon, he picks up Sam and Anna from school and much to their surprised, returned home again with Sam. He wasn’t about to complain, really; he needed help with some homework and Castiel was just the guy to help him. Dean finally gets up late that evening and walks to the living room with a blanket wrapped around him, to find Bobby, Sam and Cas in the living room, the two boys sitting on the floor around the coffee table doing homework while Bobby watches TV. He blinks a couple of times, wondering if his fever is making him hallucinate, but Castiel’s sweet welcoming smile grounds him to reality.

“You stayed,” Dean sniffles and coughs, but in the end he grins.

“I said I would,” Cas replies.

“You two stop making eyes at each other and let’s go have dinner,” Bobby teases them. Sam chuckles while the two boys blush and look away from each other.

“I guess I’d better go now, then,” Cas announces, putting his books back in his backpack.

“What are you talking about?” Bobby grumbles. “Come to the table, you idjit, I bought the vegetables chique specially for you and Sam. You’d better eat that, boy, I don’t like wasting food.”

Dean snorts and waves for his friend to take a sit next to him. Even though he’s slept the entire day, he still looks tired and fragile, and Castiel watches over him with a feeling of overprotectiveness that he’s never felt for anyone but his brothers.

There’s also other things he feels for Dean Winchester that he’s never felt for anyone else.

  



	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the terrible posting schedule, the semester is almost over and the professors are kicking my butt with assignments and exams!  
> Hope you guys are enjoying the story, feedback is much appreciated.

A strong headache wakes Dean up early on Tuesday, and yet he lays in bed for a moment, smiling to himself. He feels contented, _excited_. Yesterday had been awful, very physically painful, and yet good things had happened; Cas had remained by his side all day, taking care of him and spending time with his family. And not just that, but Dean can also remember waking up to find himself holding Castiel’s hand in his sleep. The other boy was sitting next to his bed, his closed and looking like he’d dozed off himself, while they held hands. It had given him a lot of joy, and also a lot of hope.

 _Maybe he really does like me,_ Dean thinks, smiling broadly through his raging headache.

That opened a wide new door for him, one that he was terrified to explore, but he had never let fear stop him from doing anything and he wasn’t about to start now. He wanted Cas to like him back. He wanted to take him out on a date, to see where things could go, to kiss him. They could have a good thing together, Dean was sure of it. He could deal with people staring at them, he didn’t care; he would take the bullying that he would surely face at some point for dating another man, and he would survive the most likely uncomfortable coming-out conversation with his loved ones… He would do all of that if he can have Cas in exchange.

For the time being, he had to survive the fever first. Luckily, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was yesterday. What he lacked in money to see doctors he made up with a strong immune system.

He lets out a groan when he gets up. The muscles of his body feel tired and heavy,  as if he had run a marathon. He drags his feet to the kitchen, where he finds Sam having breakfast by himself. When he sees his older brother coming in, he jumps out of his chair and hurries to him.

“Dean, what are you doing out of bed?” he scolds him. “You could just ask me, if you want anything.”

Dean waves him off. “Sam, I have a fever, I am not _dying._ I can get myself a glass of water.”

He pops another Ibuprofen into his mouth and drinks a full glass of water.

“I can drive you to school, if you want,” he offers as he leans against the counter.

Sam scoffs. “No, thanks, I don’t wanna die in my way to school. Cas is driving me anyway,” he shrugs.

“Oh, Cas is coming again?” he can’t help but smile hopefully.

Sam smirks. “You should see your face right now.”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters and hurries away to make himself presentable.

He showers and brushes his teeth. He will probably start sweating once the fever starts to come down ( _yet again_!) but it still feels like to shower; he keep the water just warm enough to avoid getting cold but cool enough to help him battle the fever. He puts on a pair of worn out jeans and a t-shirt and goes into the living room to wait with Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks him as he looks at him up and down. “Why are you dressed like you’re going to Bobby’s?”

“Cause I _am_ going to Bobby’s. Can’t go to school cause I am a bit of a public health menace, but Bobby won’t mind.”

“Dean, you should stay home,” Sam sighs impatiently. “Let your body heal.”

“My body can heal while I make some money for us.”

“Are we low on cash again? I think I could get a job delivering newspapers if I-”

“No, you’re not getting a job, you need to focus on school. And we’re not low on money, but I’d rather make sure we keep it that way.”

“Dean, why don’t you worry about your health first? Maybe go see a doctor too? I’m sure we can pay for it-”

“Sam, I’m not asking you for permission, alright? I’m going to work,” Dean cuts him, giving him a look that tells him to drop it.

His little brother is about to protest when there’s a nock on the door. Dean yanks the door opened, looking for a perfect exit from that conversation. Castiel looks a little taken aback by the annoyance in Dean’s face, but then his expression soften instantly. Sam can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean sighs with a smile.

“Hello, Dean,” he’s greeted with another smile. Castiel observes him for a moment, then asks, “are you going to school already?”

“No, he’s going to _work_ ,” Sam replies before Dean can, letting his disapproval show in the tone of his voice. He grabbed his backpack and pushed passed Dean. “Bye, Dean.”

The two older boys watch him walk away towards Cas’ car, then blue eyes turn to face Dean again. “I was wondering, if you feel better, I could come over this afternoon and do the readings we didn’t do yesterday. That is, if you’re not going to football practise...?”

Dean nods in agreement. “Sounds good.”

“Alright. I’ll be back with Sam after school, then.”

They look at each other for a moment. Only then Dean notices how terribly nervous Cas looks.

“Cas, are you alright?” he asks.

The car’s horn honks loudly and Cas turns to see his sister looking at him with a terribly exasperated look in her face. She waves her hand, telling him to hurry up.

“I’ve to go. I see you later, Dean.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, although he isn’t sure _what_ he wants to say, but Cas is turning away already, hurrying to his car. He feels this childish impulse to run after him, ask him if he’s alright; the last time Castiel kept things from him, it didn’t end very well. But Dean stays where he is, reminding himself that they’re meeting later, they’ll have time to talk. He spends the rest of the day smiling to himself, playing scenarios in his head where he asks Cas out in many different ways.

Castiel, in the other hand, has a stressful day ahead of him at school. He has to do something he’s been dreading for a long time; he’s got to ask a girl out on a date. Hannah, to be precise. He’d been a fool thinking he could get away with hanging out with Dean without his brothers asking too many questions. His lie had finally caught up with him when Michael demanded last night that he invite Hannah to his birthday dinner on Saturday. Lucifer smiled smugly all the while, and Cas just knew that it was probably him who had suggested their older brother to invite the girl.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with this girl, Castiel,” his brother had told him. “I think it’s time we meet her. Your brothers are coming back for dinner on Saturday, perfect time to bring her over, wouldn’t you say?”

Cas had just nodded while he sat there trying not to panic. He barely slept that night. He stared at the ceiling for hours, thinking how the hell he was going to get away with his lies this time. He could ask Hannah out and perhaps with some luck she’d say yes, but how the hell would he explain the situation to her? What would happen when she learned he’d been pretending to be spending time with her all along? There was no rational explanation but the truth and he could not share that with her, he wasn’t about to come out to a stranger, however kind she seemed to be.

Anna gave him a sympathetic back on the shoulder as they walked out of the house that morning, on their way to the car.

“Are you going to tell me ‘I told you so’?” he mumbles.

She looks hurt for just a moment. “No, I was going to wish you luck,” she replies.

“Oh… Thanks. I need it.”

His sister swallows her pride and doesn’t get angry at him for his previous comment; he’s got enough of his plate as it is. “Cas, I am sure she’ll say yes when you ask her out, but you’d better hang out with her before the weekend, so you can somehow explain the situation to her.”

When they pick up Sam, both of them drop this conversation. Cas is momentarily distracted by Dean, as always, but then he’s turning away from his friend’s house and driving to school. He’s got two classes with Hannah that morning. He spends the first one stealing glances in her direction, trying to come up with the right words because all of last night’s thinking had been futile, he hadn’t come up with one good excuse to explain this mess to her. At the end of the second class, he is still unsure of what to say, but he forces himself to spend up and walk to her as she’s gathering her books to leave the classroom.

“Hello, Hannah.”

She looks up and meets his eyes. She seems surprised to be addressed by him, but it lasts only for a moment before she’s smiling at him, pulling a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Hey, Cas. How are you?”

Cas shrugs. A normal person would say ‘fine’, but he can’t bring himself to lie about his mood. “I, umm… I wanted to apologize, about the other night. I was… drunk-”

“Yeah, you don’t say,” she chuckles.

“Yes, well, I left our conversation abruptly and I just felt wrong afterwards.”

“That's okay, Cas,” she shrugs. “I get it, you wanted to be with your friends, and you don’t really know me.”

Cas sees an opening there, a way to ask her out. “No, I don’t, but I’d like to… Would you- would you like to get coffee sometime… maybe?”

Hannah stares at him for a moment. It seems forever and Cas tries not to cringe as he waits for an answer. Everything about the situation feels wrong. She’s blushing, looking surprised but _pleasantly_ surprised, which makes him feel _awful_ ; he made it sounds too much as a date and he didn’t really mean it that way. He doesn’t want to date her, doesn’t want to give her the wrong impression, but at the same time he feels caught between a rock and a hard place. He needs her to say yes, he needs her on his good side, or he might suffer terrible consequences if their older brothers find out with whom he’s really been spending all those afternoons.

She opens her mouth, grins, then closes it again. She nods, holding her books tightly against her chest just like Cas does when he’s nervous. She looks adorable and Castiel feels sick with himself.

“How about Thursday, after school?” Cas proposes.

“Alright… Do you wanna go to Juliette’s? They have great waffles there.”

He nods, trying to return her kind smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes but she doesn’t know him well enough to be able to tell.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

Cas can’t walk away fast enough. He is slightly pleased with himself, he can’t deny that, and he has to admit he’d rather lie to Hannah than to face the wrath of his brothers. He’s one step closer to securing his false alibi and he can’t really bring himself to feel entirely wrong about what he’s doing while he’s driving to Dean’s again. He’s received by his friend with the usual warmth the Winchesters deliver every time he’s over. Dean looks tired and he’s still got a terrible cough, but there’s this air of peace and comfort as they sit together on the couch.

Just a couple of minutes before Cas plans to leave, Benny comes over. He steps into the house like he owns the place as soon as Dean opens the door and stops when he sees Castiel, a little taken aback to see him there.

“Oh, hey, Cas, how are you doing?” he says, waving his hand in Castiel’s direction. Cas nods politely, feeling a little embarrassed, for some reason, to be found alone with Dean in his house. “Heard you crashed and burned on Saturday,” Benny smirks teasingly but without malice, then turns to Dean, “you should have seen him, we had a great time.”

“Until I vomited in the front yard,” Cas mutters.

“Yeah, well, it’s not a party unless someone throws up, Cas, so don’t feel bad, we’ve all been there.”

“Not that I don’t love your unannounced visits,” Dean interrupts him, “but what’s up?”

“I was gonna bring you some homework, but I see Novak here beat me to it,” Benny explains.

Dean scratches the back of his neck nervously. There’s something about the look Benny’s giving him that makes him slightly nervous. He’s probably being paranoid, but his friend looks rather amused as he looks back and forth between him and Castiel.

“Anyway,” Benny says, never seizing to grin, “are we doing something this weekend or what?” Dean raises an eyebrow, Cas just frowns in confusion. “It’s Cas’ birthday? We’re throwing a party or what?”

“How do you know that?” Castiel inquires, narrowing his eyes. He hates his birthday, always has and always will. His brothers never really organized birthday parties for them when he was younger and as he grew, he realised no one outside his family ever congratulated him for his birthday. It hurt his feelings for some time, until he decided it was better to let the date be forgotten by everyone. He could just pretend it didn’t existed at all so he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed that no friends ever congratulated him.

Benny laughs. “You _told_ me. Dude, you really don’t remember much about Saturday, do you?”

“No,” he admits. Dean and Benny laugh and shake their heads at him. He gets this unfamiliar feeling of camaraderie like he’s never felt before; he _belongs_ , he’s accepted, he’s finally one of the boys… all because he got drunk at a party, but whatever, he’ll take it.

“Cas, why didn’t you say anything? We should celebrate,” Dean tells him, sitting back down next to him and patting his shoulder.

“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” Cas states. “I mean, we have a rather awkward family dinner, but that’s about it.”

“Oh, come on, Cas, gives us an excuse to throw a party,” Benny laughs, winking an eye at him.

“My brothers would never allow it.”

“We could do it here!” Dean offers. “God knows my dad won’t mind.”

“Dean, you’re sick.”

“I’ll be more than fine by Saturday!”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I’ll feel good about a bunch of strangers pretending to celebrate my birth 18 years ago.”

“We don’t have to invite everyone if you don’t want to,” Benny shrugs. “It’ll be just us friends.”

“And your non-douche brothers,” Dean adds. “I’ll make you birthday pie, Cas,” Dean tilts his head, smiling.

“And I’ll bring the booze,” Benny adds.

Cas looks back and forth between his two friends, who are looking back at him expectantly, grinning like two idiots.

 _Two friends. I’ve two friends who want to throw me a birthday party._ He can’t help but smile. He would have never guessed how odd this year would turn out to be.

“I’ll take that smile as a yes,” Dean decides, clapping his hands together.

Castiel sighs with resignation. “Alright. I’ll come over after dinner with my family.”

The prospect of his first birthday party with friends has Castiel excited for the rest of the week, giving him a little hope about Saturday; perhaps it won’t be an absolute disaster, after all. But first he has to make it through Thursday.

Hannah is currently sitting in in front of him, across the table that (thank God) keeps them separate. She’s ordered a big plate of waffles with chocolate and fruits for them and is going on and on about school and their assignments, and then her hopes for college and travelling too. Cas lets her talk; he actually likes that she talks a lot because he doesn’t, and she fills the gaps of silence with never ending stories and random thoughts. He thinks with a bit of resentment towards himself that if he were straight, he would probably like her for real, but he decides not to go down that road again; he’s hated himself plenty already for being gay.

“Am I talking too much?” she suddenly asks, screwing up her face with embarrassment.

“Yes,” he replies and she turns immediately red. “Oh, no, I don’t mind at all,” he adds quickly, “I prefer it that way… I don’t really have a lot to say myself, I’m not very interesting.”

“Oh, come on, Cas, that’s not true, you are interesting. You’ve just got to open up more.”

“I have, a little, but it’s not easy,” Cas tells her, and he doesn’t know why exactly. It’s the closest he’s been to saying something meaningful and honest since they sat down.

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Cas looks deep into her eyes. _This is it, this is the moment,_ he thinks. This is his grand opening, his chance to tell the truth, or part of it at least, to get what he really wants.

He takes a deep breath, feeling nervous again. “Can I be honest with you, Hannah?”

The girl nods, leaning closer over the table with an expectant look.

“I... it hasn’t been great.”

She blinks several times. “Oh. Oh, really? I mean, I’ve seen you around with Dean a lot. I thought you guys were friends. Is he secretly an asshole?” she whispers, eyes wide with wonder. “He always seemed so nice to me.”

“No, no! Dean’s not the problem.” _Dean’s the best._ “It’s just… You know my brothers, right?” She nods. “Then you probably know my parents are dead.”

Hannah looks away for a moment, nodding once, but then she looks up again and gives him a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, I heard… I’m sorry about that, Cas. Can’t be easy.”

“It’s not. My two older brothers-”

“They’re assholes,” she cuts before he finishes, and then she gulps, realising what she just said. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry, I was just repeating what Balthazar always said.”

Castiel is stunned for a moment but then he can’t help but chuckle; _of course_ Balthazar speaks shit about them to _everyone_ , the entire school.

“He’s not wrong,” Cas admits, looking around to make sure his brothers aren’t near. Sometimes he feels like they’re always present somehow, an ominous presence that always follows him around as if to make sure he doesn’t do anything naughty that might give the Novak family a bad name. “And they… They don’t like Dean. If they found out I’m hanging out with him…”

Castiel shifts in his seat. He can’t help feeling uncomfortable telling Hannah half-truths, but he isn’t exactly _lying_ either; his brothers don’t exactly know Dean but he is _sure_ they would dislike him, not to mention Lucifer would probably beat the crap out of him if he found out Castiel has been sneaking to Dean’s house, where they are alone for long periods of time, with the exception of Sammy joining in sometimes.

“Wow, that bad? Then don’t tell them, I guess,” Hannah says after Castiel is silent for a while.

“Yeah, I haven’t…” Cas drags his words and looks down, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt. “I’ve… kind of been lying to them… I- I- told them,” he clears his throat and looks up with sad, puppy eyes, “I told them I was hanging out with you.”

Hannah sits back, eyes wide with shock. Cas flinches under her scrutiny. He decides to get it all out, while he’s at it.

“And it’s my birthday on Saturday, and they told me to bring you over for dinner and I- I didn’t know what to say to them.”

Hannah continues to stare at him, apparently lost for words. Castiel feels like an asshole. He sighs his frustrations away and stuff his mouth with a big piece of waffles, just to have something to do with himself.

“So what you’re saying is,” Hannah finally starts, folding her arms over her chest, “that you really only asked me out today cause you need me to lie in front of your brothers on Saturday?”

“No,” Cas quickly replies, but then he realises that’s exactly what he’s saying. “Well- yeah, but-” he runs a hand through his hair nervously, “God, I’m such an asshole. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. I- I’d better go.”

He gets up but Hannah pulls from his arm to stop him.

“Wait! I- I can’t finish all these waffles by myself.”

Castiel does a double take on her. “W-What?”

She takes a deep breath. Cas cannot understand her; she looks annoyed, so why is she telling him to stay?

“Look, Cas,” she tells him as she gestured towards his chair, “it’s not exactly what I wanted to hear, but- but alright… I’ll lie for you,” she shrugs, looking unimpressed by offering a smile of peace anyway.

Cas sits back down, frowning with confusion. _My people-skills are definitely rusty,_ he thinks. “But… why? Why would you do that for me?”

“I’ve heard stories about your brothers and honestly, they sound awful,” she says. “If you had to lie to them just because you wanted to have this one friend they don’t like, I guess they’re worse than I thought.”

“You pity me,” Cas declares.

“I guess I kind of do… But lucky for you, that’s one point in your favour. Alright, I’ll lie for you, but you owe me.”

She folds her arms over her chest again, glaring at him before her lips break into a teasing smile. Cas forces himself to smile back at her, pushing his conflicted feelings to the back of his mind; he’ll deal with them later.

“Thank you! You’ve no idea,” he sighs with relief, “you’re doing me a huge favour.”

“Yeah, and in return,” she leans over the table again, smirking, “I want a real date, alright?”

There’s than span of guilt again in Castiel’s stomach. Or maybe the waffles just had too much chocolate on them.

“Well… There’s going to be a party afterwards, at Dean’s. Do you want to come?”

“Of course I want to go,” she rolls her eyes, annoyed again but only momentarily. “You were going to take me to your awkward family dinner and _not_ your real party? Jeez, Cas!”

Cas expects her to be angry but instead she sits back, laughing, and continues to eat her waffles.

“I don’t understand you at all,” he admits, tilting his head in confusion.

“Don’t worry, Cas, guys never get girls,” she says before she stuffs her mouth with waffles.

The look in Lucifer’s face when Castiel really shows up with Hannah on Saturday is precious; he looks utterly surprised, and not in a good way. Michael, in the other hand, seems beyond pleased to receive her.

 _He probably thinks she cured the gay out of me,_ Cas thinks with annoyance.

Gabe and Balthazar, who know the truth, seem beyond amused with the whole situation. Even though they’re usually childishly playful and can’t wait to ridicule his younger sibling in public, for once they seem to be on his side and help Cas and Hannah lie their way through dinner and they announce rather early that the youngest must go out to celebrate.

“We’re going bowling,” Balthazar says, knowing both Michael and Lucifer hate the activity and won’t want to join in.

“You’d better not be too late,” Michael warns him, pointing a finger at them as Gabriel pushes everyone towards the door for a quick exit, “I want _all_ of you to be up for church tomorrow.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to miss it!”

“Balthazar!” Michael gives him a warning look but Gabe’s already closing the door behind them.

Cas feels like he’s breathing for the first time as he walks through the night with his siblings and Hannah. He’s smiling and all, still not able to believe he got away with the lie. He had a perfectly respectable family dinner. Lucifer wouldn’t dare to say anything embarrassing in front of Hannah because he knows Michael wouldn’t have it. There was nothing his younger siblings loved more than seeing Lucifer have to hold his sass in. And Hannah, she’d been just the perfect guest; she was politely, easy on the eyes and smart. Michael asked her about college and all her answers satisfied him; she wanted to be an engineer, a perfectly respectable career by Novak’s standards. It would have been a flawless night if only it wasn’t all lies, if only he knew one day his family could welcome a man like they had welcomed Hannah as his partner. But they would never do that, he would never be able to be himself inside that house. This was as good as it would get with his family, only lies would ever keep them together.

Castiel wasn’t the only one disappointed with life that night, though he made a better job at hiding it. Dean could barely compose his face when his friend turned up with his 4 siblings _and_ Hannah. His first thought was _what the hell is she doing here,_ but he was sensible enough to keep it inside his head.

“Oh, hey,” Dean opened the door to let them in, doing his best to smile like everything was just fine. “I- I didn’t know Hannah was coming.”

“She had dinner with us,” Anna says as he walks in.

“Hi, Dean,” Hannah smiles as she passes him.

“Hey,” he mumbles.

Benny frowns at him, observing him from the couch. He’s already started on the beers.

Cas takes a look around the living room; there’s a banner wishing him a happy birthday, a couple of balloons here and there and bowls of chips all over the place. There are beers and are two pitchers with something dark that surely has alcohol in it too over the table. There’s also pie, as promised, with a couple of candles on top.

“Wow, Dean,” Cas huffs a laugh, looking around the room with wide eyes, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

Dean smiles, observing the look in his friend’s face; he looks… _touched._ He pats his shoulder, forgetting about Hannah for just a moment, remembering he’s doing something good here, whether Castiel likes him or not. “That’s what friends are for. Happy birthday, Cas.”

“Hey, Cas,” Hannah calls, and Dean hates that those blue eyes leave him to stare at her instead, “wanna play?”

She’s gathered around the coffee table with Benny, Anna and Balthazar, who are about to play poker.

“Depends,” Cas smirks, “it’s not strip poker, is it Balthazar?”

“It was _one_ time!” his brother rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Gadreel says.

“Jesus, Gadreel, what happens in college stays in college, bro. Quit ratting me out.”

It’s a beautiful night and everyone’s having fun. Dean should be happy, he knows it, and he smiles and drinks and pretends, but his eyes follow Hannah wherever she goes and, boy, does she spend the entire night around Castiel when it’s Dean who wanted to be by his side...

 _Why is she here?_ he wonders. He wonders about a lot of other things too. How long have Castiel and Hannah been friends? Are they _more_ than friends? They must be, why else would she have dinner with his family otherwise? But then, why hadn’t Cas ever mentioned her? What else does Cas not tell him?

He thinks back on Monday, of waking up and find himself holding hands with Cas. _I was so sure he liked me…_ But now he’s thinking perhaps he grabbed Castiel’s hand in his sleep and his friend was too polite to move his hand away. He’s blushing furiously at the thought, cringing even; what a fool he’s made of himself! Cas had been polite enough not to say anything about it and Dean had gone all week thinking Cas was _into_ him when he’s apparently going out with Hannah instead. He wants to punch his own brain so bad, but instead he does what his father taught him to do when he can’t cope with his shit in any other way; drink.

Anna and Gabriel battle all night for the control of the music that’s playing on the background. Sam tries a beer and spits it all over the floor while Benny and Balthazar bend over with laughter. Cas sits on the couch, talking to Hannah, playing cards with Gadreel and Sam. Dean tries not to stare while he sits on the floor, drinking and drinking. A numb silence spreads through his bones and things start to go in slow motion. He’s stuck watching Hannah lean over Castiel’s side, smiling at him, making eyes at him. Cas just sits there, politely smiling back, oblivious as always at the effect he has on people.

 _Fuck Cas and his goddamn charm,_ he thinks with resentment, and immediately regrets it. It’s not his fault Dean’s hopelessly in love. He should have never gotten his hopes up, that was entirely on him.

Anna knocks two bottles of beer to the floor and it brings Dean back to reality.

“I’d better get rid of those,” he mumbles. He stumbles his way to the kitchen, gets a garbage bag and starts throwing empty bottles of beer inside.

He’s grateful for his escape as he stands alone in the cold air outside. It feels good to be somewhere he can’t see Hannah flirting constantly with the boy he’s crazy about. He closes the door behind him and takes a deep, calming breath. He staggers a little as he makes his way through the dark towards the trash container. Dean’s not really thinking when he sits down on the sidewalk, all by himself. The music coming from his house feels extremely distant, like a forgotten dream, and he thinks he could just fall asleep sitting there as he closes his eyes. He wishes he could just go to bed, but he’s not (a complete) asshole and he’s not going to tell people to go away just because he can’t handle feeling jealous.

When a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, he starts and opens his eyes. Benny is looking down at him, observing him before he takes a sit next to him.

“What’s up, brother?” he asks, using a tone that he reserves for deep, heart to heart conversations. It reminds him automatically of John, because he’s usually the one that makes Dean feel shitty and Benny always sees right through him when Dean’s hurting. “You okay?”

“‘m fine,” Dean answers, but just by the way he’s avoiding looking at him, Benny knows he’s not.

Benny lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, right, that’s why you’re sitting here all alone next to the trash?”

Dean sighs. “I’m just drunk, bro.”

He’s about to push himself to his feet, but Benny’s hand on his shoulder grounds him to the sidewalk.

“I know you don’t like all the touchy-feely routine, and frankly I don’t love it either, so why don’t you just tell me what’s up? I know there’s a ton of shit you haven’t told me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, really?” Benny scoffs. “So it’s not true your dad came back for like a day and then took off again? How long has he been gone, Dean? And when were you planning to tell me you’re not going to college?”

Dean looks up with a guilty expression on his face. “How do you know that?”

“Coach named me captain. I’m not an idiot, Dean, I know you where his first choice. You turned him down and you’ve been letting your grades slip a little bit, not enough to fail but I can tell you don’t care about them anymore. I put two and two together,” he shrugs.

“Well, it’s my choice, isn’t it?” Dean hugs his knees closer to his chest, avoiding his friend’s eyes.

Benny observes him for a long moment. “Yeah, it is. I just wish you would have told me… and I wish you would talk to me about… about Castiel.”

“What about Cas?” Dean snaps his head around, frowning and taking a defensive posture.

Benny takes a deep breath. “Are you gonna make me say it?”

Dean stares back at him with defiance.

“Dean… You’re my best friend, you’re like a brother,” he smiles gently, lovingly even, like Sam smiles at him when he’s worried about him and wants to get through to him, and squeezes his shoulder, “and nothing will change that, alright? I don’t care- I don’t care if you like… guys.”

Dean takes in a sharp breath and tenses, looking away again, holding his knees impossibly closer to him.

“I don’t like guys,” he declares out of instinct, although a little voice at the back of his mind tells him it’s alright, he can talk about it with Benny, this is the right time and he’s drunk enough that his inhibitions are lowered and this will be less awkward.... But another primal, stubborn part of him fights that feeling and wants to avoid the conversation no matter what.

His friend sighs. “You’re so stubborn,” he mumbles, his friendly smile never wavering. His hand on Dean’s shoulder feel more comforting that he could ever tell, it means more than he will ever be able to express.

Dean’s hands are shaking, his heart is racing against his chest. He feels the ghosts of the feelings, the symptoms he used to get when he had panic attacks a couple of years ago, when Johns started leaving for longer and longer periods of time and money ran low in the house. That was around he time he started to work. He had nearly quit school until Bobby gave him a permanent spot in the mechanic shop if Dean promised to go to school and keep his grades up.

“I don’t… I don’t like guys…” he repeats, closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, trying to control his feelings. He doesn’t want to crash and burn, to make a scene in Castiel’s first birthday party. “I just.. I like- I feel-”

“You like Cas,” Benny says nonchalantly, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “There’s nothing too crazy about that, Dean. Gotta say it, if I were gay for a dude, Cas would be a good choice, he’s a handsome fella.”

Dean can’t help but snort. Both of them start to laugh, looking at each other with drunken expressions in their faces. Dean relaxes a little bit, comfortable in the presence of his best friend. Then Benny’s face turn a little serious again.

“Dean, I want you to talk to me about these sorts of things. You don’t have to do everything alone, brother.”

Dean looks down again, feeling his eyes sting, tears watering his eyes. He takes a deep breath as he feels a weight pressing against his chest.

 _Is this how Cas feels, when he keeps all those secrets from everybody?_ he wonders. _I go around telling him he can talk to me and here I am, keeping secrets myself._

“How did you know?” Dean suddenly asks.

“It’s not obvious, if that’s what worries you,” Benny replies. “It’s just… you’ve been better, since you started hanging out with him. Happier, I mean… And then tonight when he showed up with that girl... You should have seen the look in your face.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, thinking again of Hannah. He hates her, but then he doesn’t really, he just hates himself.

“I was… I was going to ask him out tonight,” Dean confesses in a low whisper. “I thought he liked me back, I just had this stupid feeling but… but then he came with her,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I mean, I’m happy for him, he deserves it, but…”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Benny nods in agreement. “To be honest, I thought he liked you too. He would not shut up about you last Saturday.”

“Guess we were wrong.”

“Maybe we were, maybe we weren’t. Maybe you just have to wait for the right time. Or maybe you need to take a step back, give yourself some space. But you can’t just hide out here in the middle of a party, Dean. You’ve gotta make a choice. If you’re his friend, you’ve got to support him, but if it hurts too much… You’ve gotta let go.”

  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this chapter.  
> Hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it.

Benny helps Dean stand up and together they walk back into the house. Dean feels very aware of himself now that his best friend knows his deepest secret, but at the same time a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He doesn’t have to lie anymore, he doesn’t have to hide, and finally there’s someone he can talk to about Cas that isn’t just Sammy.

He’s thinking just that as he puts a new garbage bag on the bin when Hannah walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, Dean, where are the plates? Gabriel’s cutting the pie,” she asks. 

Dean turns around for just a moment to observe her. She’s been drinking but not nearly as much as him so she looks radiant instead of sloppy, pretty even with her soft curls perfectly in place and hot pink lips. In the other hand, Dean knows he looks exactly like he feels;  _ drunk _ . He tries to focus his eyes, but he just knows he’s got that kind of dumb, absent look in his eyes with a bit of a frown due to his poisonous feelings of jealousy. He’s dragging his feet, probably stumbling a little, while she’s just gracefully jumping around light on her feet like someone who is slightly tipsy does. Just thinking about it, comparing himself to her, he feels another wave of jealousy;  _ of course  _ Cas likes her, she’s gorgeous, to be honest, and a pretty cool girl too. He’d probably really like her if his brain weren’t deciding to feel this childish animosity against her right now. Dean wants to be okay with this, with Cas dating someone, because he deserves it, but he just wishes it was  _ him _ and not someone else his new friend was dating.

“Left cupboard, on the top,” he responds a little late.

She gives him a weird look, then turns around slowly to retrieve the plates. She picks a bunch and hugs them against her chest, hesitating in place for a moment before she speaks.

“I’m sorry I crashed your party,” Hannah finally says. “I didn’t know I wasn’t invited.”

It’s like a slap to his face. Dean instantly feels something drop in his stomach; a big, heavy ball of  _ guilt _ . 

_ So she noticed… _ he thinks. Well, it wasn’t really hard. He’d spent the entire night throwing longing looks in Castiel and Hannah’s direction, and just the way his face had dropped when his friend arrived with her… And the way he had just replied to her, his tone low and unfriendly.

He feels terrible. He let his feelings get to him and now he was being unfairly rude to her, when she was doing nothing but be kind to someone he loved. It wasn’t her fault Cas didn’t like him the way he wanted.

“No, no”, he answers, straightening as the remorse sobers him up, “it’s alright, really. Besides, it's not my party, it's for Cas.”

“Oh, okay… I- I kinda felt like you didn’t want me here,” she admits, moving awkwardly in place while she blushed. “I wouldn’t have come if I knew Castiel didn’t tell you I was coming. We had dinner together and just headed this way with his brothers.”

“No, any friend of Cas is welcomed,” he forces a smile and before he can stop himself his drunken brain takes control, and he asks, “unless you guys are more than friends…?”

She blushes and giggles nervously. “No, no, we’re just friends. For now at least.”

That last comment makes Dean’s stomach feel sick for a whole new reason.

“Have you been out in many dates?”

His question comes out more like an interrogation than friendly chatter, but he can’t just stop the words from leaving his mouth, he’s on automatic mode. Dean knows he’ll probably be embarrassed and sorry about it tomorrow, and that’s most likely why his subconscious has stolen control of his body. He  _needs_ to know what's the deal with Hannah and Cas, but he's too much of a chicken to ask; well, not when he's drunk, apparently.

“Just one, and dinner tonight with his family. He asked me to cover for you, and I said no problem, but he owes me a real date, you know?” she smirks, lifting an eyebrow. 

Dean does a double take on her. “Cover for me? What do you mean?”

“You know, cause his brothers don’t like you? So he tells them he’s with me when he’s with you.” The perpetual frown in Dean’s face begins to make Hannah uncomfortable. “Did you… did you not know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” he replies quietly, looking down at his feet. He shouldn’t feel bad, the opinion of Castiel’s asshole brothers shouldn’t matter to him, but he’s drunk and already a mess of emotions, so of course it gets to him…

Of course he starts to think of everything that is wrong with him, of all the reasons why Castiel’s fancy brothers would not want their perfect younger sibling going around with the hot mess the Winchester family is; everyone in town knows what a lousy father John is, that he’s a drunk too, and that his eldest son Dean is trouble. They say he parties too much and drinks even more (like father like son, right?), that he skips school sometimes because he can’t bring himself to care about it (when in reality he used to do that to work and make some extra cash when John took too long coming back home), and no one really expected him to go to college, at least not a good one. He was known as a ladies’ man too, and parents didn’t like him for it. He’d had girls he really liked tell him he wasn’t boyfriend material cause they knew he was just a player, but the truth was no one ever gave Dean a chance to try and be something else after they had had their fun with him, they always moved on quicker than he did out of fear of getting hurt. His real friends knew the truth about him, but Dean played the part of bad boy so well that everyone else quickly bought it… 

Sam’s the only one without a reputation, although parents still look at him expectantly, almost as if they were waiting for him to show his inner troublesome Winchester. Obviously Dean’s always known people think these things about his family and himself, but for some reason having Cas think the same, having him be ashamed of Dean, that was a new low, that  _ hurt _ .

“Oh…” is all that Hannah can say, blushing as she’s realised she’s probably shared something that wasn’t meant to reach Dean’s ears. “Never mind what they think, Dean, you’re great and, Lucifer and Michael… They’re kind of douchy. Don’t tell Castiel I said that, though.”

“Yeah, that’s no big secret,” Dean mutters.

She pats his arm once before hurrying away, looking flustered and uncomfortable; they’re not that close, she’s no idea how to comfort Dean when he looks so obviously wounded by what she’s just told him. Dean stares after her, wondering how the hell he is supposed to return to the party and keep pretending everything’s fine while he’s this drunk and this... this  _ sensitive _ . He cringes with disgust at the thought of that word, it’s not one he likes to identify himself with and it’s definitely not what John Winchester taught him a 'real man' (whatever that is) should be like. He realises this is one of those times he thinks he wants to stop drinking so he never has to feel this way again.  _ Oh, God, I’m pathetic tonight,  _ he scolds himself, face-palming himself. 

It only gets worse when people start giving Cas his birthday presents. It’s all very nice, probably expensive stuff; Gabriel gets him a new trench coat, very similar to the one he has now, and the rest of his siblings have bought him fancy clothes as well. Hannah got him a 50 dollars coupon for a restaurant, and tells them it’s so he can take her out for dinner one day. Even Benny gets him some fancy whiskey and tells Cas they’re going to drink it together some other time. Sam elbows Dean on the ribs and asks him what he got his friend and Dean just sits there, rather unwilling to go to his room to get it, because his gift is stupid, it’s cheap, it’s not really special. It’s not even  _ something _ definitive, but rather an idea.

Rather clumsily he gets to his feet and goes to stand behind Castiel, patting his shoulder and gesturing for him to follow Dean to his bedroom. He had been so sure earlier that week on his choice, but looking at the presents the rest of them had gotten Cas, he felt rather silly now, rather  _ cheap _ . 

“Don’t get excited, it’s nothing like the stuff the guys got you,” he begins to apologise ahead of time as they enter Dean’s bedroom. He closes the door behind him to have some privacy, childishly wishing to stop anyone else but Cas to see the gift he picked.

“Dean, I’ll be grateful no matter what it is,” Cas smiles at him. His eyes have that absent look as well, and he looks peaceful and a little sleepy. There’s this silly, drunken grin that seems to be stuck on his face and he waits patiently in the tiny space that is Dean’s room.

_ He looks adorable,  _ Dean thinks, his heart swelling both with affection and an aching longing.

Nervously, he picks up the small package wrapped in a shiny red paper that was on top of the desk. He hands it to Castiel, who very slowly starts to open it. Maybe it’s just the alcohol or maybe it’s embarrassment, but Dean’s cheeks feel hot as Cas looks down with a confused expression on his face at what he’s holding; a bunch of cassette tapes. There’s nothing written on the outside of them, they’re brand new.

Dean scratches the back of his neck nervously and clears his throat. “I thought maybe we could sit down together and go through my family’s music collection, since you’re kind of learning what you like, and… you know, I could… I could make you some mix-tapes...”

“Oh…”

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry, I’ll get you something else-”

His hands go out to take the gift back from Cas but his friend quickly hugs them close to his chest.

“No, no. Dean, I love it, really. Thank you, that's really thoughtful of you,” he quickly says, smiling down at the cassettes with a ridiculous fondness. “It means we’ll get to spend more time together.”

“And you really want that?” he blurts out before he can stop himself.

_ Jesus, just how much did I have to drink!? _

Castiel looks up quickly, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I want to. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I thought- I thought maybe you were ashamed of me.”

Dean physically cringes, hating himself for sounding like such a little, needy girl. He makes a quick mental note to never drink near Castiel again.

Cas’ face falls. “Why would you think that?”

“Well…” Dean runs a face down his face, wondering if he should tell Cas or not what Hannah told him. Even when he’s jealous of her, he doesn’t want to get her in trouble for accidentally oversharing with him before. “I… I know you’ve lying to your family about me. I know they don’t like me. And I get it, I know I’ve a reputation in town and- and my dad-” he huffs sharply, averting his eyes. The snowball of feelings hits Dean in the gut unexpectedly. The alcohol has made him volatile and reactive, and this is  _ exactly  _ what he dislikes of his own father when he drinks, that John loses control and says just about anything before he even has time to process his own thoughts. “But it’s not true what they say about me, you know? I’m not- I’m not a  _ mess.  _ I’m not a bad influence or whatever.”

His brain instantly tells him otherwise.  _ You’re the  _ definition _ of a mess right now! Stop talking! _

“I know you’re not-”

“Sure, I’m not going to college, but a lot of people don’t and they’re fine!” he goes on. “And so what if I get drunk sometimes? I deserve a break, I’ve been taking care of Sam since I was tall enough to turn on the stove myself.”

“Dean, I’m not ashamed of you!” Cas assures him, looking small and sorry, that lovely grin of his now gone.

“Then why did you lie? Why can’t they know we’re friends?” Dean asks, raising his voice in anger because that’s what his father taught him you do when you’re hurting.

“Because I’m gay, Dean!” Cas yells back at him. There’s a tense silence between them for a moment. Dean’s eyes are wide open and his jaw drops halfway. Cas swallows nervously, hugging the cassettes like he’s hugging a life jacket. “My brothers are very religious and- and if they even  _ think _ that we’re together, Lucifer would-”

He stops abruptly. The unsaid words linger in the thick air and Dean knows exactly what he means. He opens his mouth to speak but the door of the room opens. Balthazar’s head appears from behind it.

“Hey, guys, do you want pie or-”

“Not now!” Dean growls and shuts the door on his face. Cas stares at him, perplexed by his reaction. Dean turns back around and stares at those blue eyes for a long moment before he starts walking towards Castiel, breaking whatever distance there’s still between them. He takes the gift from his hands, lays it on the desk and cups that beautiful face in his hands before he kisses Cas. It’s a tentative kiss and it doesn’t last longer than two seconds. 

_ Yeap, I definitely like boys,  _ a voice in the back of Dean’s minds whispers.

Blue eyes are still staring at him in shock when he pulls away. Castiel is petrified where he’s standing and suddenly Dean doesn’t feel so sure of himself anymore. He's just drunkenly kissed someone without their consent.

“Shit, Cas, I’m so sorry-”

He begins to pull away but Cas follows him, grabbing the front of his t-shirt and kissing Dean rather forcefully on the lips. Dean gasps, taken aback by the sudden attack, and Castiel takes the chance to swipe his tongue against Dean’s. It’s been months since he last kissed a guy and he’s desperate for the physical contact, and even better if it comes from Dean. He pushes Dean backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he falls on his butt on the bed, almost hitting his head against the wall while Cas straddles his lap.

“Sorry,” Cas chuckles against his mouth.

“No, it’s-”

The door of the room opens again and Sam stops so abruptly when he sees them that Gabriel runs into him.

“What the-”

“Hey, keep it PG!” Gabe exclaims before his hand flies to cover Sam’s eyes. 

“Is  _ that  _ what you got Cas for his birthday!?” Sam asks and Gabriel doubles up as he bursts out laughing.

Cas jumps off of Dean’s lap, blushing so hard there should be no blood left in the rest of his body. Dean straightens himself, rushing to close the door again. Gabe is already dragging Sam out of the room before Dean closes the door with a loud bang. He leans with his back against it, laughter threatening to overpower him as he blocks the door.

“Honestly, that would have been a great gift,” Cas points out, his face so straight and out of tune with what he’s just said that it makes Dean crack up.

But then he remembers Hannah. 

“I think we’re gonna have to wait, Cas. It’s not right- not with Hannah here. She thinks you're on a date.”

His friend’s face falls; he’d completely forgotten about her.

“Oh... Right…”

Dean sighs and steps into Castiel's personal space again, but gently this time, more shyly. His head is spinning and he’s only now having time to process what’s just happened. There’s a pounding in his ears that’s almost deafening and he feels a thousand things at the same time, but the warmth of Castiel’s body close to his shuts up any other thought. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll resume this on Wednesday,” he promises and seals it with a last kiss, for tonight at least.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you from a SPN Convention!  
> Sorry it's short, I didn't have much free time with the end of semester kicking my ass. Tomorrow's the last week though, then no more assignments and I'll be more free to write!  
> Enjoy guys, sorry for the short chapter.

Dean is hangover as fuck on Sunday morning. A raging heachache keeps him awake after 9 am, even though he’s barely slept 5 hours, but he lays in bed with his eyes closed for a long time, a goofy smile stuck on his face despite the uncomfortable, slightly painful feeling. There are pieces of the night before that he can’t remember or that are really blurry, and to be honest even the memory of his kiss with Castiel is slightly foggy, but it happened, he knows it happened, he could never forget that. He can’t remember the exact words that led to it, but the important thing is that Cas likes dudes- and not just _any_ dude, but Dean specifically.

Continuing with that annoying habit of his, Sam barges into his room without knocking at around 11. For once he looks just as tired as Dean though. He can’t quite keep his eyes entirely open and he yawns noisily before he speaks.

“Are we going to Bobby’s or what?”

Dean nods and instantly regrets it, it sends a shooting pain from his forehead to the back on his brain.

“After I get an ibuprofen,” he groans.

After they drop off Benny at his house, on the way to Bobby’s, Sam steals glances on his brother’s directions from time to time, and is constantly trying (and failing) to suppress a smirk.

“What?” Dean snaps, going against his better judgement, after a couple of minutes of silence. _Of course_ he knows why Sam’s being weird.

“Nothing,” Sam mutters, making the ‘o’ unnecessarily long.

Dean snorts. He feels light and as if there’s a comforting warmth running through his veins. He feels like singing. He doesn’t even really mind Sam acting like an annoying little brother. “Then quit looking at me like that,” he orders, forcing his tone to sound rougher, but they both know he doesn’t mean it, he’s too happy to be annoyed today.

“So… You and Cas.”

_I like the sound of that._

“What about Cas and I?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, turning around with a slight grin, “you tell me. Are you… together, now?”

“Jeez, Sam, we just kissed,” Dean rolls his eyes… But really, he wishes he could say yes, he wishes he knew what’s the deal between them. Dean’s all set and ready to go, willing to shake on it and call Cas his boyfriend, but he knows things are never that simple when it comes to relationships or lack thereof.

“It looked like more than kissing,” Sam teases him. Dean elbows him on the ribs. “Ouch!”

It’s a normal Sunday, but he can’t help smiling his way through it. Bobby, Jo and Ellen throw suspicious glances in his direction, but he doesn’t care. He can barely keep the secret to himself, let alone try and pretend nothing’s up. A part of him wants to brag about Castiel because, really, how awesome is the fact that someone like him likes someone like Dean? But he’s not ready, not yet, to come out to the rest of his family. Thankfully they don’t pressure him when he dismisses their curious inquiries, and he spends the day distracted, laughing under his breath as he imagines the Novaks at church, most of them looking sleepy and hangover as they fight to stay awake through mass so that Lucifer and Michael won’t smite them on the spot.

And then just like that he starts to worry about Cas, his blood boiling at the thought of his douche older brothers hurting him, emotionally and probably physically, only because he likes men instead of women. The look on Castiel’s face when he’d spoken of Lucifer the previous night… Dean remembers that with clarity, the look of dread in the other’s eyes. And it scares him because it’d looked like Castiel knew _exactly_ what would happen if his brothers found out, as if something of the sort had happened before. He wants to know the truth, all the things that his friend has kept secret until then, but he knows they won’t have a real chance to talk before Wednesday.

Still, even if he can’t get precisely what he wants, he can’t help himself when he sees Cas on Monday on class; it’s like the center of Earth’s gravity changes when he sees the other boy, so Dean makes a beeline in his direction. He looks a little too excited, perhaps stands closer to him than he usually would, but Cas finds it endearing and welcomes him with a smile. Their conversation is very short and Dean barely has time to ask him to join him at his and his friends’ table during lunch before the professor comes in and asks them to take their seats. Castiel hesitates for a moment because there’s nothing that would make him feel more out of place and frankly uncomfortable than sitting with the jocks, but Dean looks so hopeful and he’s asked so nicely that he can’t bring himself to say no. If he’s honest with himself, he is also excited to be around Dean sooner than expected, even if they don’t get to talk about what they really wish to discuss.

 _It’ll be alright, Dean will be there,_ he tells himself. Nothing can be too bad with his friend around.

However, as the morning progresses he begins to feel less and less confident. A part of Castiel is tempted to skip lunch altogether and avoid showing his face at the cafeteria at all. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he would had had lunch alone in the hallways or outside in the benches that are next to the running tracks. But standing up Dean without even saying a word to him about it would be very rude and Cas has been programmed to be polite even if it killed him, so he talks himself into it as he drags his feet across the crowded corridors of the school, heart beating furiously against his heart. He’s so out of his comfort zone already, he can’t even see where the hell that is anymore. He’s like a fish out on the desert.

 _It can’t be that bad,_ he thinks but even the voice in his head that tries to sound cool and collected has a nervous edge to it. Still, he tries to give himself some words of comfort to inspire some courage. _You didn’t think you’d be able to befriend someone like Dean and you did! Now you’re friends with Benny too. You could turn out to be pleasantly surprised. Just relax, Castiel, relax, don’t be weird… And stop talking to yourself, Jesus._

He remembers Balthazar always boasting about the Novaks being popular, usually beloved people, and Cas is one of them so there’s got to be some charm there left in his DNA waiting to be activated and used.

 _Come on, be cool, be a Novak,_ he tells himself, taking a deep calming breath as he stands by the door of the cafeteria. The large, white room is already packed with students who are talking animatedly to each other. His eyes scan the place, nervously yet eagerly looking for that one guy that has turned his life completely upside-down. He barely has time to spot Dean sitting with a couple of his friends before a strong hand lands on his shoulder, making him jump, and he’s being led forwards.

“How are you doing, Cas?” Benny asks him as he drags the thinner young man around the tables. Cas doesn’t realise he’s resisting movement, planting his feet on the ground with unnecessary resistance after every step. Still, Benny never relents his walk. “So you’re having lunch with us?”

“How-”

“Dean told me. He’s embarrassingly excited to introduce you to people, like we haven’t known you for _years_ ,” he rolls his eyes and smiles down at him. Cas blushes, swallowing hard. He can’t help the small smile that forms on his lips. Benny chuckles and leans closer to him so that no one else can help him murmur, “stop looking so in love, Cas, if you wanna keep this thing between you two a secret.”

But the comment only makes him blush a brand new shade of intense red. He can actually feel the heat in his ears, just as they reach their table.

Next to Dean there’s a guy, and in front of him there are two girls, all talking loudly to each other. Around them there are more people, students Cas knows are jocks and cheerleaders, but they all seem to be divided into smaller groups as they enjoy their lunches together.

Dean welcomes Castiel with a big smile, moving to the side to make room so he can sit next to him. There’s a flash of happiness in Dean’s eyes, a childish excitement, and it makes Cas feel warm and welcomed as he sits to have lunch with people he had always thought were too basic, too boring to be worthy of his time.

“What are we having today?” Benny asks as he sits down next to his girlfriend, his eyes roam the table and take in all the food his friends have brought. He takes out a plastic container from his backpack and opens it, pushing it towards the center of the table as an offer for the rest of the group.

Dean beams with delight and fishes for the new pieces of spicy chicken that has been laid in front of him. He groans as he savours the food.

“God, I _love_ your mom’s chicken!”

Cas gives him a half confused, half horrified look as he watches Dean eat from all of his friends’ plates. Those manners would give his brother Michael a stroke. But just as Dean eats from his friend’s plate, Benny takes a big portion of Dean’s fries straight into his mouth.

“We share food,” Benny explains to him.

“Yeah, otherwise Dean would starve to death,” Benny’s girlfriend interjects, throwing a playful smile in Dean’s direction. Cas feels bad, he should know her name, but he stopped paying attention to people a while ago. “We’ve been feeding him for years.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest but the other girl, Cassie (Castiel gives himself a mental pat on the back for remembering someone’s name), beats him to it. “Fries aren’t real food, Dean, we’ve had this discussion already.”

“I’m just saying, I don’t see you complaining about my fries,” Dean replies.

Cas puts his food in the table as he watches Dean interact with his friends, shyly pushing his dish towards the middle of the table too. He knows he’s nowhere comfortable enough to eat from other people’s containers but he wouldn’t mind if they are from his, if that’s the norm.

“Yeah, _thanks_ for our daily dose of fat and carbs,” Cassie rolls her eyes at Dean, tone full of irony.

“If you don’t want my food...” Dean leans in to grab his container, sliding it back towards him, but Cassie jumps to stop him, giggling as she pushes the fries back towards her. “That’s what I thought.”

“Will you too stop flirting with each other? Jeez,” Fred (another pat on the back for Cas!) rolls his eyes at them, throwing one cherry tomato at Dean’s head.

“We’re not flirting!” both Dean and Cassie growl back at him, but while Dean steals a glance in Cas’ direction from the corner of his eye, a secret ‘ _I’d only flirt with you’_ look in his eyes, Castiel could swear Cassie smirks a little, almost as if she were pleased other people noticed some kind of chemistry between them.

“Flirting, bickering, potato, potata,” Fred mutters, then turns to Cas. “So, Novak… It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

Cas looks back at him, squinting with confusion. He doesn’t understand the look Fred’s giving him, why he looks so amused or even what he’s referring to.

“Excuse me?”

“You got _wasted_ at my party, dude,” he laughs. “I heard you puked in the front yard.”

Castiel gulps. “I’m very sorry about that.”

Fred shrugs with sincere lack of resentment or even a single care, throwing some of Cassie’s pasta into his mouth, continuing to speak with his mouth full of food. “When you throw a party, you always know someone is gonna throw up somewhere. I just wasn’t expecting it to be _you_.”

“Yeah, Castiel, what’s up with you?” Benny’s girlfriend asks, pointing at him with her fork. “Did you catch the party-hard-bug from Dean? You got wasted two weekends in a row, Benny tells me.”

Cas blushes. “It was my birthday.”

“What?” Fred snaps his neck around to look at Cas again, only now looking offended. “You threw a party in the Novak manor and you didn’t invite me? _Dude_!”

“The Novak manor…?” Cas repeats quietly, confused, looking at Dean for an answer.

“Yeah, that’s what people call your house. We’ve all always dreamed of throwing a party in your house,” he explains.

“It looks so perfect, so neat, it just screams to be trashed by a wild party,” Cassie adds, faking a longing sigh.

Castiel chuckles. “My brothers would murder me.”

“Well, I, for once, am glad you came out of your little shell, Cas, you’re a cool guy,” Benny says, avoiding his eyes to balance the softness of the comment.

“You’re not the _only one_ who is glad,” his girlfriend sings, smirking at Castiel’s direction.

“You’d better not mess with my girl, Hannah, Castiel,” Cassie threatens him, but she’s fighting a smile all the while. “You’re going out again or what?”

The blue-eyed boy feels himself cringe.

_Oh, boy, no..._

“Don’t interrogate the guy,” Dean jumps to his rescue, and also because he hates the topic of Hannah and Castiel himself. “They just went out  _once_ , it’s nothing.”

“ _Two_ dates!” she corrects him, holding two fingers up against his face. “Not everyone is a player like you, Dean.”

“I’m not a player!” he argues, not really letting himself look flustered. It throws Castiel back to his room, to when Dean confessed how it actually hurt the things people believed about him. He wants to reach for his hand and squeeze, tell him he doesn’t think he’s a player, but he stays put where he is.

“Then prove it, babe,” Cassie raises an eyebrow, a daring look on her eyes. Cas doesn’t like one bit the way she’s looking at Dean. There’s obviously some longing in her eyes. “Let’s go on a double date. You, me, Cas and Hannah. You already have that coupon for the restaurant, don’t you, Castiel?”

He opens his mouth to speak, to object, but he can’t think of a way to get out of it and 5 pairs of eyes are on him. Benny is looking down at the food, keeping a safe poker face, while Dean is biting the insides of his cheeks, trying as hard as Cas is to think of a way to say no without sounding like a jerk. There’s no real good reason why they wouldn’t do that.

“You two get together on Wednesday, right? You can pick us up when you’re done, we’ll have dinner together,” Cassie continues, not one but a million steps ahead of the pair of them.

“But-”

“But what?”

 _But Wednesday was gonna_ our _night,_ Dean laments internally. He was supposed to have a lot of free time with Cas, maybe invite him to stay over for dinner, make out a lot on the couch, talk about what the hell is going on between them. He didn’t have much in mind, but still he’d been expecting the night to be somewhat… _special_. Game-changing. He wasn’t supposed to share Cas with anyone else, expect maybe Sam, if his little brother was willing to cope with the sight of them together… He certainly hadn’t been expecting to go out on a double date with Cassie, with whom he had rather recently made out with in a foolish, drunken attempt to get over Cas or something, and Hannah and his friend, a match that he utterly hated.

But apparently, he was.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided m'boys needed a bit of time together and a lil bit of happiness. So prepare for something sappy.

“Well, that isn't how I expected it to go…” Dean mumbles on his way to their next class. “Don't get me wrong, I am glad my friends like you, but…”

They both sigh.

“I know...” Cas is silent for a moment, then looks up, his expression a little shy, and he asks, “you really think they liked me?”

Dean smiles at him and nods. “You're easier to love than you give yourself credit for, Cas.”

The words send a wave of warmth through Cas, making his heart swell with happiness. He doesn't deserve it probably, he spent years thinking less of these people, thinking himself better, too good to waste his time with them, just as a way to cope with his own loneliness, and now they come and open their arms to him as if he'd always been part of their group. He doesn't deserve that kindness, but he sure is damn glad to receive it.

“About that date,” Dean says, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him from going into the classroom. There's no one else in the hallways now, just the two of them. “Maybe we can get out of it. We’ll… we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And we will talk… about, hmm, us... before that dumb date, at my house. Yes?”

Dean looks embarrassed but has a goofy smile plastered across his face. It's endearing.

“We will.”

They smile at each other and times seems to freeze. Dean has to fight the temptation to lean in, close the distance between them and kiss that pretty smile of Castiel’ right there in the hallways of the school with every fiber of his being. There’s so much he’d like to say to his crush.  _ You look great today. Thank you for making the effort of meeting my friends, I know it wasn’t easy for you. I love that my friends love you. I feel like I’ve known you forever.  _ But it’s not the time or place.

“Come on, we’re late,” he mutters instead, forcing his feet towards the classroom’s door.

Seeing each other at lunch is better than not seeing each other at all before Wednesday but it’s hard to keep a respectable distance when all Dean wants to do is scooch closer to Castiel until they’re touching, maybe even hold his hand too. It would be alright, he thinks, he is quite sure his friends wouldn’t give him shit for it, even if they will certainly be surprised to find out about his secret sexual preferences. No, Dean’s friends are good people,  _ kind _ people who won’t look at him differently just because he likes guys but he knows Cas doesn’t want people to know about him so he keeps the temptations at bay as best he can. They haven’t even had a chance to talk ever since they kissed anyway, perhaps Castiel isn’t even ready to go around holding hands with him like they’re boyfriends… And still Dean smiles at the thought; Castiel and him, boyfriends. Yes, he likes the sound of that.

On Tuesday he pretends to start feeling sick again to create an excuse to cancel Wednesday’s date. During lunch with his friends, he fakely admits that perhaps he should have seen a doctor after all last week when he was sick, that maybe he needs antibiotics to kill off whatever bug he’d had. He pretends to have a headache, to be tired and quiet. 

“I  _ told _ you, Dean, you need to get over your aberration of doctors,” Benny’s girlfriend scolds him.

Castiel observes him with an honest worried frown, but still engages a little bit in conversation. Today, he seems somewhat more comfortable around Dean’s friends, even though they’re joined by two other guys from the football team and they all talk so much, he barely has time to say a word. It’s alright, though, Castiel’s always been more comfortable listening than speaking himself. In spite of this, when he does say something and manages to make everyone around the table laugh, he blushes and smiles to himself, feeling incredibly happy. For the first time ever, he doesn’t feel like a complete weirdo. He belongs, even if it’s just for an hour, during lunch, for just a day.

Dean decides to go to football practise because he’s missed it already last week and because, let’s be honest, he loves to see Castiel in the running track with those little shorts that show off his legs. Benny runs next to him and sees him stealing glances at Castiel every couple of minutes.

“Nice legs, huh, Dean?” he teases his friend, bursting out laughing when Dean realises he’s been caught and blushes furiously.

To keep the lie alive, Dean skips school on Wednesday morning. When he shows up to the mechanic shop to work for a couple of hours in order to make something useful of his time, Bobby gives him an earful about skipping school, but Dean’s already there and two cars that need urgent fix-ups have rolled in, so he goes away muttering curses under his breath while Dean gets ready to get his hands dirty. Working on the cars with Led Zeppelin in the background, thinking about what’s to come that afternoon, he can’t help but feel more alive than ever. Everything’s fine, as fine as it can be at least, for the first time in a long time. It’s his first date tonight with Castiel and it’s bound to be amazing. All he needs to do is call Cassie after school and tell her they need to cancel because he’s sick. Dean feels only slightly guilty about standing the girls up without telling them the truth and he feels bad that they might think this is something they’ll just do later on some other day when Dean is feeling better again, but those negative feelings are drowned by the excitement of  _ finally _ getting to be home alone with Castiel.

When his friend arrives at his house right after school and brings Sammy with him, Dean can barely keep his hands to himself as he opens the door for them and welcomes them with the biggest smile.

“Oh, jeez, Dean, get a grip,” Sam teases him as he walks in.

“Hey, shut it or I’ll ground you!”

“What? You can’t ground me.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Sammy,” Dean warns him but Sam rolls his eyes at him, smirking, and disappears to his room. He then turns around to see Cas standing perhaps a little too close to him. “Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean. I was worried about you, but Sam told me you’re not really sick…?” Cas tilts his head, looking confused, and then moves to drop his backpack by the couch as he takes a seat. Dean likes to see the change in his demeanor; he doesn’t ask for permission anymore, he doesn’t wait to be asked to sit down, he just does, he feels at home with them.

“Oh, yeah, I’m not,” he explains as he follows his friends to the couch, sitting way closer than usual, resting his arm along the back of the couch, just behind Cas’ shoulders, “I’m just pretending so we can call off tonight’s date.”

“Cancel? We can’t cancel.”

“Sure we can. I’ll call Cassie, let her know I am sick and say we’ll reschedule when I am better. She can call Hannah and that's it. Meanwhile, you and I can… you know… stay in, together.”

Dean shifts closer, feeling his heart raising expectantly. His eyes roam Castiel’s beautiful face, his messy dark hair, his innocent blue eyes, his perfect pink lips, and he doesn’t realise he’s licking his own lips as he stares. Castiel unknowingly holds his breath under the weight of Dean’s stare, forgetting for a moment that he’s got something to say, something to confess, because it’s the first time he’s sober and Dean’s openly looking at him like that at the same time, and damn, it’s distracting. His eyes are so focused on Dean he doesn’t see the other’s hand coming up to rest on his neck, just under his ear, and then Dean is smiling softly, closing his eyes, and leaning closer.

Their first sober kiss is gentle, sweet and just perfect. Dean leads the kiss, moving slowly against Castiel’s lips. It’s nothing like the urgent kisses they experienced on the weekend, and although neither would ever argue that those were amazing as well, there’s just something beautiful about how patiently they’re kissing each other now. There’s no need to rush and no hesitation, neither has to explain their feelings, just the way they handle each other speaks volumes; they’ve fallen in love with each other, fast and hard, and they both know it. Here in the couch, sitting next to each other while they kiss, this is their favorite place in the whole wide world.

The kiss is so perfect, Castiel kind of wants to remain silent. He knows that as soon as he speaks, he’ll ruin the moment, but he’s a good, honest boy and he just cannot withhold information from Dean anymore, so even though it almost physically pains him, after a minute he break the kiss. He stays close though, resting his forehead against Dean’s for a moment while he licks his lips, tasting Dean on them. It’s intoxicating.

“That was… that was awesome,” Dean whispers, still smiling with his eyes closed.

“It was,” Cas agrees, and then swallows hard before continuing. “I just… I have to tell you something.”

Dean opens his eyes. His stomach twists with anticipation, in a good way. If Cas is feeling half of what he’s feeling, he thinks he knows what Castiel might want to say. At least, his own brain can’t help screaming those three worlds he’s been wanting to yell at his friends for a long time now. “What is it?”

“I’m…” Dean holds his breath. No one’s ever said it to him before, but it feels only right that Cas gets to be the first. Maybe the only one. “Look, I’m going tonight.”

“I do too,” he says before Cas in even finished, huffing a nervous laugh, but then his grin drops and he does a double take on him, “wait, what?”

“Oh, so you’re coming too?” Cas tilts his head again, a puzzled look in his face. “I thought you said you weren’t.”

“Wait, hold on,” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a minute and then opening them up again, “you’re telling me you’re going tonight? As in, to the date? With Hannah?”

Castiel has a terribly guilty look on his face. He wishes he could say no, he wishes he wasn’t, but... “I am.”

There’s a couple of seconds of silence during which Dean’s brain processes this information.

“But- but you just kissed me.”

“Technically, you kissed me.”

“Yeah, but you were a  _ willing _ participant,” Dean continues. He looks like he’s trying hard to decipher a complicated math equation and at the same time he’s trying to keep calm. “What I mean is- you’re gay and we’re- I don’t understand.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and sighs. He looks down at his lap and shyly reaches for Dean’s hand. The other feels weird now, disappointed to say the least, and he’s clenching his jaw tightly as he also looks down at their hands. Castiel’s hands are warmer than his, softer too; Dean’s are calloused, skin worn out and hard from years of working with them. It feels nice to have their fingers interlocked, and yet Dean can’t bring himself to enjoy the moment.

“Dean, my family… my family still thinks I am going out with Hannah. My brother Michael, he… the other day he asked me if I wanted to go out on a double date with him and his girlfriend and… and, well, Hannah.”

Cas hadn’t been expecting it at all. He’d arrived home on Monday feeling rather happy. When Michael had asked him into his studio later on that evening, his stomach had twisted a little with nerves as it always did when his older brothers summoned him; it was rarely ever a nice, friendly conversation. But then Michael had been, in fact, rather kind. He’d asked Castiel how school was going, congratulated him on his good grades and then he did something he hadn’t in ages; he had offered Cas to spend time together.

“Naomi has requested that I introduce her to some of my siblings,” he’d told Castiel. His younger brother knew of Naomi, but just barely, and he didn’t know how serious the things between her and Michael were. Apparently, they were in some kind of established relationship if they were to meet each other’s families. “Now, you know Lucifer doesn’t play well with others and Anna’s… a little too young. I was thinking you and I could take our ladies out, spend some quality time together too. My treat, any restaurant you want. What do you say?”

When Castiel tells this to Dean, he can’t help but feel slightly betrayed. “No, you should have said no. I mean, Cas, you can’t keep going out with her. She’s- she’s into you, man, it’s not cool. And I’m- you know, I’m patient but-”

_ But I don’t want to share you.  _ The words die at the tip of his tongue.

“I know, I know,” Cas drops his head, ashamed of himself, “but… you don’t know what it’s like. I cannot remember the last time my brother and I did something together.” He looks up with a pleading look in his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time he took an honest interest in me.”

Dean swallows hard and adverts his eyes. “You know I know, Cas… My dad-”

“So what would you do if he came back and asked you to spend time together?” 

As much as Dean would like to say he wouldn’t care, he wouldn’t fall for it in a blink of an eye, he knows it’s a lie; he would give  _ anything _ to have John’s affection again, it’s just a deep rooted need that he can’t shake off. A pathetic, childish part of him that just won’t die out will always long to have that bond with his father again, the one they had when Dean was just a little boy and Mary was still alive.

“Dean, I also need to get Michael on my good side,” he pleads, cupping Dean’s face to lift his gaze, “for you and me. What do you think is going to happen when I tell him I’m not going out with Hannah anymore, huh? I won’t be able to come around anymore, I won’t have an excuse to be here so often.”

“So the only way we can be together is if you constantly lie about who you are with?” Dean asks, sounding a little more bitter, a little angrier, than intended.

“I wish it wasn’t that way, but… yes, probably.”

Dean’s about to argue, to raise his voice like his good old daddy taught him you do when you’re upset, but the sad look on Castiel’s face softens him and reminds him that the person in front of him is hurting too. 

“Cas, what did they do to you? Why are you so afraid of them?”

It’s Cas’ turn to look away. He shifts in his place as he looks for the right words, but nothing comes out. Dean sighs and pulls him into his arms.

After a moment, he asks, his voice barely a whisper, “have they hurt you? It’s okay, Cas, you can tell me… or not. That’s cool too.”

It takes Castiel so long to reply, Dean had begun to think he wasn’t going to, but Cas pulls away just enough to meet Dean’s eyes before he tells him everything; about Tom, about Lucifer finding out, about staying all summer at home so nobody would see him while his face was healing, about Michael pretending nothing had happened… It made Dean’s blood boil.

“They’ll never accept it, Dean,” Cas laments, “it’s a sin, a grave one... but I don’t care, I can’t help it. And I’ll go to hell willingly anytime if I get to have you in exchange.”

“Jesus, Cas. Is that what you think? That you’re going to hell because you’re gay?”

Castiel shrugs, looking down. Dean’s heart aches for him, for all the pain that has been thrust upon him by his douchy brothers, and he plants a furious kiss in his lips in an attempt to ease some of those feelings.

“Don’t say bullshit like that, you’re- you’re a good person. There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s not a sin, that’s a lie.”

“You don’t know, you don’t go to church.”

“And I don’t  _ want _ to, not if they’re going to be delivering that kind of crap to me on Sunday morning. Do you think I’m a sinner? You think I’m going to hell?”

“No, of course not,” Castiel quickly replies.

“Then you’re not either. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with  _ us _ . This,” he waves a hand between the two of them, leaning closer again, tilting his head to the side to kiss him, “this is good.”

Castiel relaxes into the kiss, letting Dean’s arms and the warmth that came with them engulf him. They’re so lost into it, Dean jumps when the phone rings. Castiel chuckles, pulling back as he blushes.

“Who the hell-” Dean mutters as he stumbles to the phone, and sighs when he recognises the voice. “Oh, hey, Cassie.”

Cas sits up straighter and looks at Dean while he talks on the phone. Their eyes never leave each other.

“No, no, I am feeling much better. I slept a lot this morning and I feel fine, so we’ll pick you up around 6.30, okay?” Castiel questioningly lifts an eyebrow and Dean winks at him. “Okay, see you in a bit then. Bye.”

“I thought you said you weren't going,” Cas teases him as Dean sits back down next to him, his arm once again around Castiel’s shoulders.

“You think I’m gonna let my boyfriend go out on a date with someone else without supervision?” Dean snorts and a moment later when his brain catches up with his mouth, his cocky smile drops. 

“So you're my boyfriend?” Castiel asks, eyes wide like a puppy.

“Well- I mean- yeah, unless you don't want to,” Dean stammers stupidly as he scratches the back of his neck. He's never been this uncool before, this nervous. With Cas, everything seems to be new.

Cas laughs again, leaning in to peck him once on the lips. “I want to.”

“But” he clears his throat, “we're gonna have to set some, err, rules, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, pretend all you want with your brothers, Cas, but… please, don't kiss Hannah. I- I wouldn't be okay with that. And it wouldn't be fair for her, either, if you lead her on more than necessary. You've no idea the effect you have on people.”

It’s probably the first time ever that Castiel feels…  _ confident _ , bold, and he wants to enjoy the new feeling. He smirks mischievously, pulling Dean closer by his t-shirt as he leans in too, and whispers in a seductive voice, “and what would that be, exactly?”

That goes straight to Dean’s groin. He blinks stupidly a couple of times, a pathetic groan emerging from the back of his throat. Cas chuckles before he kisses him, deepening the kiss quickly as he fists the fabric under his hand. Dean’s hands are on his arms, feeling his biceps very much on purpose as they make out a little too furiously given that they’re in the living room and Sam could walk in on them in any minute. Dean draws the line when he feels himself starting to get hard and he breaks the kiss, panting hard, shifting on the couch as he feels his jean tightening.

“Don’t tease me, Cas. God, there’s a ton shit of stuff I’d like to do to you and I’ve no idea how,” Dean confesses and then he laughs when he realises it’s true, he’s got no idea how to do anything with guys. “I’m pretty much a virgin all over again.”

“We’ll learn together,” Castiel shrugs. He tries not to think about all the things they could do because, seriously, they’re in the living room.

“You mean you and Tom never…?”

“Oh, no, no. We only ever kissed. If Lucifer would have found me like  _ that _ with Tom, he would have murdered me.”

Dean sighs heavily, stroking his new boyfriend’s cheek gently once. “Cas, you know you can’t hide forever, right? You’re gonna have to tell them about us, eventually.”

“Have  _ you  _ told your family?”

Dean opens his mouth, but quickly closes it again. He’d meant to tell Bobby, Ellen and Jo, but… he just doesn’t know  _ how _ . How does he start the conversation? Does he sit them down to have ‘the talk’? Does he simply announce it like it’s nothing, over lunch?  _ Ugh, they gave me a lot of homework this week, like you wouldn’t imagine! Also, I like guys and I even have a boyfriend now.  _ Dean shakes his head at the thought.

“I  _ want _ to,” he admits, “I just don’t know how. I know my family won’t mind and my friends, maybe they’ll tease me, but they’re going to be cool with it… I think, at least… But if I say anything, I’m pretty sure they’re gonna deduce we’re together, so now I can’t.”

Castiel gives him an apologetic look. “I am truly sorry, Dean. I wish I could tell them I’m with you, I really do, but the consequences would be grave. Even if somehow Lucifer doesn’t kill me, they would certainly kick me out of the house. And my parents… when they made their testaments, they stated that we could not get our share of the inheritance until we were 21 years old, so I would also be automatically broke and unable to go to college.”

Dean huffs in protest. “ _What?_ That’s so stupid, why would they do that?”

“They thought 18 was too young to be given that amount of money… So I’m a slave to them until then. In my parent's defence, I am quite sure they weren't planning to die, and neither were they expecting me to be gay _and_ my brothers to be homophobic.”

A bit of a tense silence settles between them. Castiel is still holding on to Dean’s shirt, afraid that if he lets go, he might lose him. His love comes with too many complications, to many ifs, he knows that, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

“So we have to wait 3 years to be able to be together, out in public, like normal people?” Dean asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“Well, not really. Next year, I’ll be a college and you can come visit me whenever you want. We won't have to hide there.”

Dean sighs and looks away. He doesn't want to think about that, about college. That’s just another inevitable problem that’s waiting for them down the road; eventually, Cas is going to go away to study somewhere else because he’s smart and wonderful and he’s got a bright future ahead of himself, and when he does that he will be leaving Dean behind. Dean can drive and visit him on the weekends if his boyfriend goes somewhere that is less than a day away from their home, sure, but who’s to say Castiel won’t meet someone else, someone more interesting and who is available everyday for him?

He forces himself to stop that train of thought. He can’t start thinking about a hypothetical ending to their relationship when they’ve barely even started going out. Fuck, no, he’s not giving up on Castiel that easily.

“Look,” Dean starts, taking a deep breath, “I’ll wait. For you, I’ll wait. And I’ll let you go out on dates with frigging Hannah, and I won’t touch you in front of other people, and I won’t tell anyone else about me either… but promise me this is temporal, Cas, and promise me it’s just you and me.”

“Are you  _ jealous _ of Hannah?” Castiel asks, lifting an eyebrow. “Dean, I’m  _ gay _ .”

“Shut up.” Dean shoves him gently and Cas chuckles. “Just promise me this whole secret thing won’t have to go on for much longer. At least in front of our friends we could be ourselves, they wouldn’t mind. I get it, you need time to get comfortable with them, but just… think about it, alright? I would like to… to be able to hold your hand, once, in public, you know?”

Castiel melts on the couch. “Dean, I didn’t know you were so cheesy,” he teases him and laughs when Dean’s ears turn red. “I like it,” he adds before Dean can complain. “Look, before we tell people, I need to find a way to handle this business with Hannah. I- perhaps I should tell her the truth.”

“You think?” Dean replies sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. “If you don’t hurry up, she’s gonna fall for you.”

“But what if she stops helping me lie to my brothers?”

“I don’t know, we’ll figure something out… But, Cas, she deserves to know. And I kinda don’t love her flirting with you all the time, that’s my job.”

Unable to keep off of each other for too long, Dean leans in again to kiss him again. He can't get enough of it, he could kiss his boyfriend for hours on end without getting bored. 

Just then, the door of Sam’s bedroom opens.

“Oh, boy, you guys are making me sick,” Sam groans as he walks towards the kitchen. The moment he sees Castiel’s face drop, he stops dead on his tracks and raises his hands in a sign of peace. “I didn’t mean like sick as in it’s _wrong_ ,” he quickly explains, blushing hard, stumbling in his words, “I meant it as in, gross, you’re kissing my brother, Cas.” Dean bursts out laughing as Sam tries to explain himself. “Shut up, Dean, it’s not funny! I don't want him to think I'm homophobic!”

“That’s what you get for trying to mess with me. And you’d better get used to it, Sammy, cause Cas is here to stay.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy, guys.  
> Also, I just finished reading Ninety One Whiskey. Destiel shippers, this is a must, it's truly amazing.

Dean makes Castiel change his shirt for one of his.

“You can’t go out on a date with what you wore to school, Cas,” he tells him as he tosses a new one at his boyfriend.

“It’s not a real date,” Cas interjects, raising an eyebrow. He looks slightly exasperated but, as usual, goes along with anything Dean throws his way, he can’t help himself. He tries to look annoyed, but his poker face, one he’s been working on for _years_ , wavers with each and every smile Dean throws his way.

“Oh, come on, it’s our first date,” the other smiles, grinning and winking once at him before he licks his lips. Castiel’s eyes fall to follow the quick movement of his tongue.

“With _two other women_ ,” his boyfriend argues, but he begins to take his t-shirt off anyway.

Dean gulps as he watches Castiel undress, feeling a familiar tingling sensation on his lower abdomen waking up with interest at the sight in front of him; he’s _dreamed_ about seeing Cas like this, and even with less clothing. He groans, shifting uncomfortably in place, averting his eyes and stopping his train of thought because it isn’t really the time or place to get a boner. He wants to do so many things to Castiel, to explore so many fantasies, but he wants to take it slow at the same time.

They go over the basics of dates; Dean tells him what to expect and how to try to avoid uncomfortable situations. Cas has never been out on a date before, but Dean has plenty of experience. He teaches Cas all he needs to know to keep the date decent, because there’s no need to be assholes about this whole ordeal, yet not romantic.

“She’s probably going to try to touch you, like your arm, or brush her hand against yours or something. Just pretend you don’t notice it, okay?, and then shift slightly away. If you see her reaching for your hand, run it through your hair or drink water, do something before she reaches you because then pulling away is just awkward. I’ll help you keep the conversation running. At the end of the night, when you drop her off, do not get out of the car. If you walk her to her door, she’s probably going to expect you to kiss her and we agreed-”

“No one’s kissing anybody, I know, I know. Dean, must I remind you I’m gay again?”

“Yes, please,” Dean smirks, leaning against the door, blocking it until Castiel kisses him.

Sam groans. “Ugh, will you two stop making out and just _leave_ already?” the youngest Winchester screws up his face, faking to be disgusted by the two of them, and turns to concentrate on the TV again. In reality, he feels very happy for his brother, although he doesn’t really understand why the hell they’re going out on a pretend date with other girls.

“You’re gonna have to get used to it, sorry, Sammy.” Dean leans in and kisses Castiel on the cheek, just to annoy his brother.

Sam rolls his eyes at him. “It’s _Sam_.”

“Well, _Sam_ , you’d better be in bed by the time I get back, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam waves a hand at him lazily as other two leave.

Dean feels slightly nervous, but he won’t admit that to Castiel, who is rubbing his hands against his jeans in an attempt to dry them; he looks nervous  and fidgety, and one of them needs to keep their shit together for the sake of the team. Long seem to be the days where Cas was ever stoic and in control, everything has changed since he welcomed Dean into his life. It’s terrifying but he can’t bring himself to wish things were any different.

“I’ll meet you there,” Dean tells him, patting him on the back encouragingly as they part ways, each heading towards their cars.

“It’ll be fine, just fine, I like Hannah, and Dean’s there, Dean’s there with me…” Cas mutters under his breath as he drives, alone, to pick up Hannah. It doesn’t feel fine when she comes out of her house wearing a pretty dress and a kind smile. It feels wrong, the whole thing feels wrong, and his gut twists with guilt and a childish impulse to hit the gas pedal and drive away, back to the safety of Dean’s home, almost overcomes him.

“Hey, Cas,” she greets him as she opens the door and sits next to him. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” he replies and probably waits too long, his tone empty with no sincerity, when he says, “you do too.” She _does_ look nice, but it surely doesn’t have the effect on him that she’s looking for.

He clears his throat and drives away, anxious to be in the presence of Dean again. He keeps the conversation neutral, throwing a couple of questions at Hannah to keep her talking, just like Dean taught him. “Ask her about her day, nod along, let her do the talking,” he’d said.

Castiel had laughed at Dean and his jealousy earlier but watching Cassie standing a little bit too close to Dean, a hand on his arm, all smiles and making eyes at him, as the pair waits for the other two to arrive to the restaurant, it sends an unfamiliar wave of something uncomfortable through him and he has to remind himself he’s still driving, he needs to focus on the road to park properly, so he can tear his eyes away from them. He swallows hard, looking down as he brings the engine to a full stop. When he looks back up, he sees Dean laugh, throwing his head back, moving a step to the side as he does it; it’s subtle, can almost go unnoticed, but he sees how the other moves his arm away from Cassie’s reach, and that pressure in his gut goes away as soon as it’d arrived. _Sure, Dean’s bi, at least I think he is, but he’s my boyfriend._ My _boyfriend,_ he reminds himself.

A childish part of him that is still slightly jealous (not that he’d _ever_ admit to it), wants to antagonise Cassie but Castiel finds that he can’t; she’s loud and a little bossy, yes, but also cheerful and kind. He also reminds himself it’s not her fault they ended up in this situation, in this fake date; it’s because of _him_ , because he’s been lying about what he wants and who he is, that they’re here, so it’s really not fair to be angry at her.

Cassie talks a lot, in a hurry and animatedly, leading the conversation so much that Dean barely needs to intervene. All of them are discussing mutual friends, parties, old funny stories, and Cas sits there, feeling more than a little awkward and just a tad out of place, left behind, at least until he can feel Dean moving his leg under the table to touch his. He blushes and looks at his boyfriend, but the other pretends not to notice while he continues to talk to the girls.

“Are you guys going to Mark’s this Friday? I want to, but I don’t think I can keep up with all the parties lately,” Cassie’s saying, “there are like two every single weekend lately.”

“I know, I need to study more,” Hannah agrees before she takes a sip of her drink.

“Well, it’s senior year, this is the way it’s supposed to be,” Dean shrugs. “I ain’t gonna complain about parties and booze.”

“Of course you’re not, Mr I-don’t-care-about-anything,” Cassie rolls her eyes at him, smiling his way and pushing him softly. It seems flirtatious, especially when her hand lingers on his arm for a moment before she pulls away. Cas only thinks that that’s not true, there are many things Dean cares about, his family on the top of the list. “Come on, you’re not the tiniest bit worried about college?”

“Nope, I... ain’t going.”

“What?” Hannah’s face drops as if Dean’s just personally offended her. She composes herself quickly, probably fearing she’s being impolite, and tries again. “I mean, why not?”

“I’m not desperate to bury myself in debt for something I don’t really give a shit about,” Dean responds as he lifts a fry to his mouth. “I like working with cars and I’m doing that already, so…”

“And you wanna be a mechanic? _Forever_ ?” Cassie asks skeptically, turning on her sit to better face him. She makes a face, like she can’t possibly imagine something worse. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to go to _Harvard_ and become a doctor or something, too much work for you I guess, but still, man.”

Dean shrugs again, looking down at his plate; he doesn’t like being under the spotlight, Cas realises, not when his life choices are the things being questioned, but he keeps that easy smile of his frozen on his lips. Dean, the ever cheerful guy, must always pretend to be cool and relaxed. “I like the job,” he answers, and then, because he feels pressured, like he needs to explain himself, he adds, “I’m gonna take a couple of courses to get better with paints and sprays, and also to restore old cars in the future, but yeah, I like working with Bobby.”

There’s a moment of silence. The girls are still looking at Dean.

“What about you, Cassie?” Cas asks, mostly to get the attention away from Dean.

“I wanna be an accountant. I already know which schools I’m applying to. What about you, Cas? What do you plan to do?”

He’d been giving it a lot of thought lately. He wasn’t sure, not entirely, but there was this shy wish inside of him, a whisper on the back of his mind. _Professor, I’d like to be a professor. I’d like to teach kids._ He likes it, the sitting and planning and reading, explaining things to others, helping them and watching their frustration dissolve from their face once he’s finally made it through to them. As always, his mind goes straight to his brothers; he knows they expect more from him, they’d like for him to follow a fancier career.

“I think I’d like to teach,” Cas replies, looking around the table with nervous eyes, as if the reaction of the people in the tablet would dictate whether that’s the right answer or not. _Could someone please point me at the direction of correct life choices, please? Thank you._

“Really?” Dean breaks into a smile, sincere and soft. He leans over the table and points a finger at him. “You’d be great at it, Cas, I can totally see it.”

“You really think so?” he asks, sounding ridiculously out of breath and reaching over the table to take the one hand Dean’s left over the table. He catches himself just in time, though, and goes for the salt instead. He looks at it for a moment, dumbly, like he has no idea what to do with it, then throws some over his pasta, even though it’s perfect and it doesn’t need sault.

Hannah squints her eyes for a moment, looking down at his hands. It lasts even less than a second, but Castiel catches her eye. He looks away quickly, swallows nervously.

“Yeah, of course,” Dean beams. Cas doesn’t know whether to trust him or not though, he’s got the impression Dean would tell him the same thing no matter what Castiel told him he wanted to be. “I mean, you’re great with Sammy and with me.”

“Oh, God, you make him tutor you?” Cassie huffs a laugh, and, again, pushes Dean playfully. “I thought you said you didn’t care…?”

“I don’t just want to _fail_ everything,” Dean rolls his eyes at her. “I wanna graduate, you know?”

“Cas, if he’s exploiting you, you can just tell me, I’ll kick his ass,” she tells Cas, but her eyes barely leave Dean.

“Yeah, right,” he snorts.

“You don’t think I can?”

“I _know_ you can’t.”

She bites her lip and punches him on the arm. Cas sees it, the way her hand slides down, aiming for his, but suddenly Dean is moving it away to run it through his hair and then he takes a sip of his coke, leaving his hand around the cool glass afterwards, out of her reach.

Hannah sees it too. No one makes a comment though.

“Anyway,” Cassie clears her throat, momentarily embarrassed as she also watches Dean’s hand slip away, “you’re going to Mark’s or not?”

“I thought you said you had to study or something,” Dean smirks, victorious. Everyone gives him shit for partying too much but the truth is, they all wish they were as careless as Dean seemed to be. “Seems like I won’t be going alone after all.”

“Is that an invitation, Winchester?”

Cas wants to roll his eyes, wants to tell her to stop flirting with him just like Fred had on Monday, but he keeps quiet, plays with his food instead. It’s getting cold. He makes a mental note to never go on a fake double date again.

“Sure,” Dean says. He looks around the table at Hannah and Castiel, extending the invitation to them to make sure Cassie doesn’t think it’s a date. “What do you guys say?”

Castiel agrees before he even thinks about his answer, just because Dean is looking straight into his eyes and it’s distracting.

“Actually, we’ve got a date, Cas,” Hannah starts slowly, barely turning her head in his direction. “We’re going to the movies with your brother, remember…?”

The disappointment in his face is evident and he averts his eyes, trying to compose his poker face as fast as possible.

“Right,” he nods.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just sits back on his chair, lips pursed. He tries to smile, he does, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Guess it’ll be just you and me, Dean,” Cassie sings playfully.

“And everyone else at the party,” Dean replies, tone a tad bitter; it’s a warning, _this isn’t a date._ The message seems to reach Cassie, _finally_ , and she remains quiet for a moment, taken aback by his sudden coldness. Dean feels bad instantly, even though deep down he feels he’s done nothing wrong and it’s not his job to protect her feelings, but they’ve been friends forever and he can’t help himself, so he bumps his elbows against hers, “we’ll have fun, huh?”

She smiles and nods, but the damage is done.

Conversation picks up again, now mostly lead by Dean, but there’s something hidden in the air, something thick and dense, an unspoken tension, and the evening just doesn’t feel as carefree as it did a moment ago. Now, when they laugh, it feels forced; _smile so things aren’t awkward,_ that seems to be the silent agreement between the four of them.

When they walk out of the restaurant, Cas looks back at Dean and Cassie as they walk away towards his car and he wonders if she’ll try to kiss him. He swallows down his own stupidity, his jealousy; even if she does, he’ll stop it, he knows as much, but it still bothers him.

 _When did pretending become so hard?_ he wonders as he tears his eyes away from Dean’s back. He’d thought he’d mastered the art of not only looking stoic but _feeling_ that way, living like that. Now he knows what Dean feels like when he sees him going out with Hannah; it hurts, for the first time pretending hurts more than it helps, but he doesn’t know how to do things differently.

He lets out a deep breath and walks faster, eager to put this night behind him. Hannah is silent on the drive back, looking out the window distractedly, and Castiel makes no effort to make conversation. When he stop the car in front of his house, he thinks with relief, _this is it, it’s done, it’s over_ , but Hannah’s not getting out of the car and he panics, wondering how impolite it’d be to reject walking her to her front door if she asked.

She doesn’t. Instead, she turns around and observes him for a moment. Cas unconsciously shifts closer to his door, away from her, in case she tries to kiss him.

“Cas, can we talk?” she asks after a long pause.

 _No_ , he wants to answer right away. He wants to get the hell out of there. “Of course.”

“I just…” She looks down, fidgets with the hem of her dress. “You don’t really like me… do you?”

Something drops in his gut.

“Of course I do,” he replies quickly, because he does, he really does. They could have been friends, if only the circumstances had been different; they actually do have a lot on common, and he feel comfortable in her presence, which doesn’t usually happen with strangers for Cas.

“Not the way I wish you did, though… Not the way… not the way you like Dean.”

She lifts her eyes and meets his gaze. His lips part and he feels his mouth is dry. He chokes on nothing. He looks away, panicking.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he all but growls.

“I just- I need you to be honest with me, that’s all. I think I deserve as much, don’t you?”

He doesn’t look at her. His knuckles are white as he holds onto the steering wheel like his life depends on it. He clenches his jaw and he thinks quickly, a million thoughts raising through his mind but nothing makes it out of his mouth. Should he tell her? Should he trust her? Is she going to be upset? Is she going to tell his family, or everyone else for that matter, everyone at school? She could. She _should_. She should be angry. She could be trying to get him to admit to it to use it against him for revenge, revenge because he lied to her, he wasted her time.

He jumps when Hannah places a hand on his shoulder.

“Cas?” her voice is soft, full of concern. He steals a glance in her direction from the corner of his eyes and he wonders, could she really be vengeful and spiteful underneath her kind face? She doesn’t look like the type of person who would expose him out of bitterness, but he doesn’t know how to trust people, good things don’t generally happen to him, with the exception of Dean Winchester. “I’m not mad or anything, I promise. It’s just… You look at him the way I wish you’d look at me,” she admits, dropping her eyes and her hand.

Castiel wants to say something, he really does, but he doesn’t know how to. He turns around to look at her, a pleading look in his eyes; _help me, I don’t know how to do this._

She looks up, waiting for him to say something, and sighs. A thought occurs to her. “Is that why your brothers can’t know you’re with him? You don’t want them to know you’re… gay?”

“They know,” Cas replies, but it sounds alien to him, like it’s someone else speaking, and then he continues so quickly, he stumbles on his words. “They just wish I wasn’t. So I told them- I told them I was with you and- I’m so sorry,” he closes his eyes, breathing quickly, “you were the first name that came up to my mind and then they wanted to meet you, and I’m so sorry, please don’t tell anyone. Please, Hannah.”

“Of course I won’t, Castiel, come on, I would never do that…” she promises, smiling at him, not without pity. “And we can still be friends, you know? I’ll… I’ll get over this stupid crush,” she averts her eyes, blushing, “and then we can still be friends.”

He opens his eyes to observe her, frowning with confusion if not mistrust. “Why? Why aren’t you angry? How can you forgive me so easily? I lied to you. I- I _used_ you."

She shrugs, half-smiling at him. “That’s what friends do. I can tell you're really sorry too.”

Hannah reaches slowly for his hand, placing hers on top of his, moving her thumb once to stroke his skin, then she retrieves her hand.

They sit in silence for a moment as Castiel’s breathing relaxes.

“But you’d better pay for the tickets on Friday,” she adds, trying to alleviate the tension.

Cas can’t help but smile. “You still want to go?”

She shrugs. “I love going to the movies.”

“Me too,” he replies.

“Okay, then… I’ll see you on Friday.”

He nods and catches her last smile, one that is a little sad, before Hannah’s getting out of the car and running inside. She cries a little that night, but there’s no bitterness in her heart.

Dean isn’t really that surprised when Cassie doesn’t get out of the car right away. She turns on her seat to look at him. He wants to say something, he wants to apologise, he wants to explain, but there’s really nothing he can say that will satisfy her while there are a lot of things that might hurt her, and he always prioritizes other people’s feelings over his, so he stays quiet.

“You are not gonna walk me to my door?” she asks. She tries to sound cheerful, but it comes out as tired. Dean knows very well what she means. It’s not just walking her to the door; she wants him to kiss her, she wants him to hold her, to promise without words that they’ll keep going like this, coming and going from time to time, stealing kisses at parties in dark corners

“No, I’m not,” he replies, sounding just as defeated.

It feels like the end of something; of what, Dean isn’t sure because they’ve never been in a relationship, not for real, but something is happening, something is changing, and he tries hard to keep his mouth shut, for her own good.

“Why not?” she asks while looking down at her hands. It’s so unlike her to be this quiet, this vulnerable. A part him, one that was in love with her not too long ago, screams at him to give her everything she asks from him, but that never works out for him, he always ends up getting hurt, and now he also has Cas to worry about. He can’t give Cassie what she wants because only Cas gets to have Dean like that now. “Why did you ask me out in the first place, if you don’t want me?”

“You asked _me_ out.”

“You could have said no.”

“In front of everyone? You put me on the spotlight, Cassie.” _You know I don’t like that, or you should know, if you knew me well enough, if you cared,_ he thinks with bitterness, but he doesn’t say it.

She nods and stays quiet for a moment, biting the insides of her cheeks. He wishes she’d just go but he knows her, knows she’s not just going to let this go.

“So, what, you’re not into me anymore?” she says, her voice barely audible. “It’s over, then?”

Dean huffs a laugh but there’s nothing funny about it, his chest aches with things he’s bottled up for a long, long time. “Nothing’s over. We weren’t a thing in the first place.”

“We could be.”

“No, we can’t be,” he shakes his head, curling his fingers into fists. He tries to stop himself but it’s like a dam breaks inside of him and finally, a whole river of hurt comes flowing down his tongue. “You can’t ask me that, not now, no after- God, I chased after you for so long, Cassie. I was with you every chance you gave me and you made jokes about me partying too much and being a ladies’ man when it was you who never gave us a chance, it was _you_ . And even now, even _tonight,_ for Christ’s sake, Cassie,” he looks away when he feels a sting in his eyes, “you keep making jokes about how I’m not good enough. So I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, alright? But you’ve been doing it first, for a long fucking time, and I deserve better. For _once_ in my life, I deserve better.”

Dean inhales sharply, almost choking. Cassie is mute, her eyes magnified by tears.

“Dean-” she finally mumbles nervously, reaching for him.

“Please, get out of the car,” he mutters, firmly maintaining his gaze straight ahead. She doesn’t move. “Cassie, get out of my fucking car,” he growls between gritted teeth.

Cassie sniffles and contains a sob, but at last jumps out of the car. Dean doesn’t watch her go inside, he drives away as soon as he can, blinking the tears away so he doesn’t cause a traffic accident.

 _Get a fucking grip,_ he tells himself. He thinks of Castiel. He deserves better, after a lifetime of people talking shit about him, making jokes at his expense, taking too much from him and offering too little in exchange, and now he has someone better, someone who appreciates him and likes him just the way he is. _So what if we have to keep it secret? That’s fine, I don’t care, it’ll be fine._

But he knows, deep down, it isn’t.


	20. Chapter 20

Castiel can tell there’s something wrong with Dean even before he hears the rumours, just by strained smile on his face when they greet each other on the corridors. His boyfriend tries to brush it off, says it’s not important and hurries away when the bell rings to announce the start of the next class, but later Cas sees students bringing their heads together to gossip while they wait for the professor to come in and start the class. There was some kind of fallout between Cassie and Dean in their date, apparently. Cas can’t help but wonder what happened after they left. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and hopes she didn’t try to kiss him.

Dean waits for him by the door of the cafeteria at lunch. They see Cassie has gone to sit in a different table. She’s sitting with Benny’s girlfriend, Hannah and other girls in a table further away from the one they usually sit in. Dean sighs and leads Castiel to their table, where Benny, Fred and two other of their friends are waiting already.

“Well, if it is’t Dean the heartbreaker,” one of them (Castiel struggles to remember his name, he knows him, they’ve shared classes together before…) teases Dean as he sits down next to him.

“Does this mean I can hook up with Cassie now?” the other boy, tall one with dark hair, asks, pushing Dean’s arm playfully.

“Shut up, Mark, I’m not in the mood,” Dean mutters as he opens his food container and pushes it towards the center of the table. Afterwards, he goes for a pile of empanadas cut in half. Cas eyes them with curiosity, they look delicious.

“Alright, alright,” Mark rolls his eyes, and then turns to Castiel. “What about you, Novak?”

Cas hesitates, his hands on the lid of his container frozen midair. “What about me?”

“Word on the street is you and Hannah aren’t going out anymore either. Girls are fighting over you already for who gets to go out with you next,” he raises and lowers his eyebrows fast a couple of times.

“What is it with Novaks? I swear, you always get the hottest girls,” the one with dark hair asks, pretending to be annoyed. He really does scoff when Castiel finally opens his container to reveal raw vegetables. “Oh, God, Novak, if you don’t want to share food, just say it, but that’s just sad.”

Cas looks flustered and Benny barks a laugh. He pushes the container towards him and throws a cherry tomato into his mouth. “Well maybe it’s because they eat healthy and keep in good shape. The Novaks are a handsome bunch.” Benny winks at him and Dean almost says something stupid like _hey, don’t flirt with my boyfriend_ but the thought never makes it passed the privacy of his brain.

“Damn, right. Cas, why don’t you introduce me to your sister, huh?” Mark asks, smirking. “Or to Hannah, if you don’t want me as a bro in law.”

They all laugh. Dean’s smile is forced.

“You’re such an asshole,” Benny scolds him, but it’s lighthearted. He observes Dean for a moment and leans across the table. He tries to sound casual, but Dean can hear the concern underneath when he asks, “you okay, brother? You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

Dean shrugs, decisively keeping his eyes away from Cas.

“Honestly, I don’t believe the rumours,” the tall guy says, “no way you rejected Cassie, you’ve be in love with her for- forever.”

Dean flinches and throws Castiel a quick glance from the corner of his eye. He takes a deep breath before he replies, and he only does so because he doesn’t want the subject to continue. “Yeah, well, I ain’t anymore. Got tired of her messing around with me. Can we drop it now, please?”

A flash of concern flashes in the eyes of his friends, and even if Castiel doesn’t know them very well and it lasts only for a second, he notices. He worries too. He’s not stupid, he heard about Dean and Cassie before, he knew they at least hooked up at parties before, but apparently there’s a lot more to it he doesn’t know if Dean’s feelings are getting hurt somewhere along the line.

“Sure thing, bro,” Mark tells him, looking away. “Don’t you worry, you’ll get over it. I have a bottle of Jack at home with your name on it to drown our sorrows. You’re coming this Friday, aren’t you?”

Dean nods lazily.

“What about you, Novak? You coming?”

“Oh, I’m going to the movies with my brother.”

“You could come afterwards,” Dean says, not meeting his eyes. He’s still jealous, but he’ll never admit to it. He hates it, hates that Hannah gets to play boyfriend and girlfriend with Cas in front of his family while he’s some kind of shameful secret. He hates it because that’s how he’s always been treated, something to be embarrassed of, and he doesn’t want that from Cas… But still, he wants Castiel, whatever he can get from him, so if he gets to be with him afterwards, he’ll take it. “I’ll let you crush in my place if you’re too drunk,” he adds, trying to play it safe in front of the others but what he really means to say is _come to me, please come to me afterwards, stay with me._

Castiel considers it for a moment and nods and shrugs like it’s unimportant, but his heart is beating in his chest. He could stay over at Dean’s, spend the night with him, and suddenly his heart in beating against his chest at full speed.

“Alright, it’s settled then,” Benny says, trying to bring the attention towards him because Dean looks awkwardly serious and he doesn’t want the rest to suspect him, “another weekend, another party. I’ll bring the vodka, guys.”

Dean should be happy, he knows he should, but he can’t help feeling uneasy. Castiel doesn’t go on Friday to study with him after class, instead he goes straight home to have early dinner with his brother, his date and Hannah, and then catch a movie the four of them together. He knows it’s stupid to be jealous because he can’t imagine anything worse than going out on a double date with Castiel’s asshole of a brother but a part of him that had always ached for a family (a ‘normal’ family, that is) wishes he could blend in with his partner’s family. He had, for the most part, imagined meeting the family of one girlfriend and happily becoming a new member for the clan, calling her mother ‘mom’ after a couple of years, spending Christmas with them and thanksgiving and whatever, receiving loads of phone calls on his birthday…

 _Oh, well, another thing that’s not gonna happen for me, surprise, surprise,_ he sighs and almost chokes on a sip of vodka and coke that is just too painfully strong with alcohol. There’s a funny, tingling sensation on his legs and he knows the alcohol is kicking in. _Good._ He drinks, he talks with his friends, he eats when Benny brings him food to make sure he’s not drinking on an empty stomach, and he plays strip poker (he’s good at keeping his face neutral because he doesn’t really feel like smiling, not for real). He’s barely got his socks off when Castiel finally makes it to the party.

“Hey, Dean, look who’s here,” Benny shouts into his ear, loud over the music, and points at the door. Dean can’t help but notice he’s not the only one looking at the gorgeous blue eyed boy; a pair of girls near the door are giggling as they check him out. He looks quite handsome, dressed in slacks (slacks, in a party, with just 18 years old!), a dress shirt and a blazer. He looks a bit like a pretentious asshole, Dean thinks with a slight drunken giggle, but also incredible hot as well. He instantly sights with frustration, thinking they have to stay for a while longer until it’s a reasonable time to leave the party together without raising suspicion.

He’s told he’s got to finish the game or pay the price (strip down to his boxers in front of everyone, which no, ain’t gonna happen if he can help it), so instead of making his way to Castiel, he keeps playing. He loses concentration when he sees one girl and then another making their way to his goddamn boyfriend. Castiel is polite, replies and smiles, and then one of them is leading him away into the kitchen to get a drink and Dean is losing items of clothing because he can’t concentrate, he’s no idea how’s bluffing and who isn’t and what he’s supposed to be doing. He ends up with nothing but his jeans and he’s glad the game finished before he’s left in his underwear in public.

When he goes to find Castiel, he isn’t too happy to see him involved in a game of Suck and Blow; the girls look overly excited to have him playing and the guys cheer him on, they tell him to let the card drop. Some guys drop it and quickly peck the girls on the lips, the usual drills, really, it always happens. But as soon as Castiel sees him, he excuses himself from the game.

“I’m starting to wonder if this happens at every party you go to,” Cas teases him, whispering into his ear when they finally catch up with each other. He’s pointing a finger at Dean’s naked torso and he tries not to stare because they’re surrounded by people. “If so, I might be coming more often.”

Dean laughs; close to Castiel, he feels better, lighter. His doubts, his fears, they dissolve.

“I’d rather do it in private, you only need to ask,” he replies, voice rough against Castiel’s ear. It sends a shiver down his spine. Dean loves the faint blush on his pinks and he wants so badly to lean in and kiss him, but he restrains himself. His fingers twitch to touch Cas, so he curls them into a fist.

“Maybe later.”

The smile at each other. It’s too much, too intimate, they’re standing too close, so Castiel looks away. Dean sighs, running a hand over his mouth.

“So, hmm, how was your… date?”

Castiel stiffens for a moment. “It was…” It was everything he wanted it to be; his brother was polite and abnormally kind to him, speaking wonders of him to his partner, but he couldn’t help sitting there with a knot in his stomach, thinking none of it was real. Hannah was lovely, friendly to him and going along with the lie like they’d discussed. As soon as they arrived to the party, though, they’d parted ways. “I don’t know. I was fine, I guess.”

Dean isn’t sure how to respond to that. A selfish side of him wishes Castiel would have told him it was terrible, a complete disaster, that he never wants that to happen again. _Fuck my brothers, Dean,_ he imagines Castiel telling him in his fantasy, _I wanna get up on a roof and shout I love Dean Winchester, I don’t give a shit what they think._ He automatically realises he’s drunk, no doubt about it now.

“So you’re gonna go out with her and your family again at some point, huh?”

“Maybe.”

Dean nods. He tries not to think about it, about Castiel’s family going who knows for how long thinking he’s with some other girl when he’s sneaking around to see him. He tries not to imagine Castiel being embarrassed of him in front of his family like so many other girls were before, he tries not to remember them asking him to sneak in and out through the window in the middle of the night cause they didn’t want their parents to meet him. He can bear with it, he thinks, he can keep up the secrecy if at least he gets to be with Cas when they’re with the people who love them, their friends. Here, they shouldn’t have to pretend. There’s no Michael, no Lucifer, no one to crucify Castiel and Dean for their taste in men. Here, they could be together.

He swings in his place on the tip of his toes, biting his lower lip to keep the words inside his mouth. _Don’t ask, don’t ask, you’ll ruin it, don’t ask._

Of course, he asks.

“But, okay, now that Hannah knows about…. you... and she’s fine with it… can’t we…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, do you wanna dance with me?”

Castiel follows Dean’s finger to where he’s pointing at some people dancing on the living room. He feels something weird in his stomach as he watches the people dancing, some in pairs, some randomly jumping around. It could be the alcohol or… it could be the stress the idea of coming out in front of all this people produces in his brain.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” he declines the offer as politely as possible, pursing his lips as he also tries to smile. The look on his face that results from it is somewhat funny but Dean’s not laughing, he just nods once and looks away. Castiel opens to say something else, to explains that he wants to dance with him, even though he doesn’t know how to, but he just can’t do it, not right now, but Fred and Benny come stumbling towards them before he gets a chance to say anything at all. Fred curls an arm around Castiel’s neck, almost choking him accidentally.

“Hey, Castiel, got a lady friend outside that wants to talk to ya. I swear, apparently fucking a Novak is in every girls’ bucket list, it’s hilarious,” he tells him, dragging his words sloppily. His eyes are slightly unfocused and his jaw’s going to hurt tomorrow from smiling too much. “She’s got a fine pair of double D’s, dude, you’re not gonna regret this, come with me.”

“Fred, leave the kid alone, come on,” Benny tells him, grabbing the back of the neck of Fred’s shirt to stop him from dragging Castiel away.

“Fuck off, Benny, you’re just jealous cause you’ve a girlfriend. Us single boys gotta have our fun, right?” Fred’s eyes dance back and forwards between Dean and Castiel.

Dean raises his glass and says, “sure thing,” before the tips his head back and finishes his drink. “Have fun, Cas.”

Castiel throws him a pleading look, _don’t let him take drag me away,_ but Dean lets him, even laughs under his breath for a moment. He knows he’s being vengeful and stupid; _you wanna pretend we aren’t together? This is how, Cas,_ he thinks, but he’s drunk, which makes him an asshole more often than not, so he allows it to happen.

“What the hell did you do that for, Dean?” Benny scolds him as they watch Fred and Cas disappear through the crowd. “Kid got hit on like three times already. Fred wasn’t kidding, you know? It’s like all girls suddenly realised Castiel is human and available, and he’s like the only guy left that hasn’t tried to fuck them, so apparently, that’s appealing.”

“They should thank me, I broke his shell,” Dean comments nonchalantly as he pours more of an unknown dark liquid into his cup. It’s coke for sure, although he’s no idea what else is in it. It smells like alcohol, no doubt about it.

Benny looks around once, then leans in closer, grabbing Dean’s elbow. “You mind telling me why you’re throwing your boyfriend at other girls?”

Deans moves his arm away. He isn’t planning on replying but he’s slightly pissed off and a whole lot of drunk, so he says, “I asked him to dance and he said no,” like it explains the mess of feelings and thoughts that swirl in his mind.

Benny waits for him to go on, to explain himself further because he isn’t making any sense. When he doesn’t, he asks, “okay, so?”

“If he wants to pretend we’re nothing, then fine, fine by me, fine, but I’m gonna have my fun too. I love to see him all rattled, can’t help myself.”

His best friend rolls his eyes. “Say fine one more time and maybe I’ll believe you. Why don’t you talk to him instead of being an asshole about this? So he said no to dancing… You really expected him to come out to the entire school right here, right now? I know alcohol makes you stupid, but come on, Dean.”

“Hey!” Dean complains, putting a hand to his chest as he pretends to be hurt.

“Come on, I’m serious. I know what went down with Cassie, Dean.”

Dean’s head snap up at that, his cheeks flushing a strong red. “You do? Ah, fuck, she told Annie, didn’t she? And she told you? Goddamn, man, people can’t keep secrets anymore.”

“Of course Cassie told her, they’re best friends. And she’s my girlfriend, we tell each other everything.”

“ _Everything_?” Dean raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“Yeah, everything.”

“You told her you got chlamydia that one time?”

“Will you _ever_ let that go, please?” Benny hisses angrily.

Dean snorts. “Never, sorry, I can’t. You told her about the time you accidentally texted the coach for Valentine’s day?”

“Stop trying to change the subject! I know you don’t like keeping this a secret, and I know you’ll never admit that you’re afraid of getting hurt again, but give the kid time to adjust, Dean. And will you _please_ fucking talk to him? You have the communication skills of a radio running low on batteries, I fucking swear, it’s infuriating.”

“You swear a lot when you’re drunk,” Dean notices absentmindedly.

“Are you even listening to me?” Benny sighs with frustration.

Dean swallows and looks down at his feet. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious, brother,” Benny plants a hand on his shoulder and Dean looks up. For once, he’s not smiling anymore. “Communication is key in a relationship. I don’t want you guys breaking up over something stupid and having to pick up the pieces afterwards, alright? So get your ass out there and save your boyfriend from those double D’s, go home and fucking talk about this.”

He finishes his speech by smacking Dean on the back of the head.

“Ouch! Jeez, alright, alright, I’m going!”

“And give me that, you’ve had enough,” Benny adds, snatching his cup away.

Dean doesn’t complain, he lets the alcohol slip away from him as he begins to swim in a sea of people as he makes his way through the house and out the back door. Somewhere along the way, he puts back on all the pieces of clothing he’d dropped during the poker game because, on a serious note, he doesn’t want to get sick again. Outside, Castiel is standing with a bunch of his friends, looking rather awkward and anxious, as the others discuss (a bit too loudly) their sexual conquests. The double D’s are nowhere to be seen and Dean is slightly glad about it.

“What the hell are you girls laughing about, huh?” Dean asks as he approaches the group, keeping his eyes away from Castiel for good measure although his body aches to move towards him.

“We’re trying to find out what Novak’s into -he turned down Jessie, can you believe that, Dean?- but he won’t share,” Jeff, a loud jerk Dean for once doesn’t like too much, tell him as he turns around on his seat to welcome Dean. “Got a shy one here. Girls love it. But you wouldn’t know about that, would ya, Dean?” Jeff turns around to look at Cas, then, and continues, “your friend over here fucked at least half the senior girls. He wouldn’t know shy if he read the definition on a dictionary. ‘s a total slut.”

They all burst out laughing, even the ones who know that isn’t true, and Dean forces a smile, making sure he doesn’t look at Castiel. He’s got nothing to me ashamed of, he’s not the type of person who thinks it’s bad to sleep around, he can do whatever he wants with his dick as long as he’s not hurting anyone, but having someone else, someone he dislikes boasting about it without his consent when he’s already drunk and touchy- he doesn’t love that.

“You jealous cause all the girls prefer me, Jeff, let’s be real,” Dean shrugs, smirking defiantly, then he turns to Cas. “Hey, Cas, can you give me a lift home?”

There’s a chorus of protests coming from his friends - “you’re leaving so soon?”, “Dean, it’s not even 2 am!”, “you’re getting soft, Dean!” - but he ignores them, his eyes anchored on Castiel’s, those bright blue eyes that shine even in the dim light of the garden’s lanterns. There’s definitely relief in his boyfriend’s eyes, even if for just a second before he composes himself again.

“Sure,” he replies, careful not to sound too eager, and puts down his almost untouched cup in the first surface he finds.

As they leave, the protests and whistles continue, and he even hears someone tell Cas to hurry up and come back before they start another game of strip poker. He sees Cas smile happily at that, at the feeling of being wanted back, and he feels bad for a second that he’s dragging him away from the party.

“Hey, I can wait a little longer if you wanna stay, no hurry,” he tells him, but Cas shakes his head.

“No, let’s go home.”

Dean does a double take on him but Castiel oblivious to anything as they walk arm in arm around the garden towards the street.

 _Home_ , Dean repeats in his head, and he melts a little inside at the thought of Cas referring to his beaten, old house as his home. Maybe he didn’t mean to, maybe Dean’s reading too much into it, but he lets the comforting thought spread through his veins all the same.

When they get to the house, they find Sam sleeping on the couch with the TV on. Dean rolls his eyes and turns the TV off. Cas is rounding the corner of the corridor and turns around for a moment to see Dean very gently laying a blanket on top of his younger brother. His eyes linger on Sam for just a fraction of a moment, a smile pulling at the corners of his slips. Cas moves into the bedroom, suddenly feeling his heart racing inside his chest.

Before he has time to overthink anything, before he has time to get more nervous, Dean is there behind him, shutting the bedroom door. They look at each other for a moment and there’s a pause.

Dean clears his throat. “Would you like a t-shirt?”

“What?” he asks dumbly.

“A t-shirt. To sleep in. Or some shorts, I don’t know.”

“Oh. No, thank you. I mean, unless it makes you uncomfortable if I sleep on my underwear.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I sleep naked, so.”

Castiel gulps, his eyes become wide like the moon. Dean snorts and throws his head back, laughing so loud Castiel fears he might wake up Sam.

“I’m just kidding, Cas, relax. Have a sit, come on, let’s talk.”

Dean grabs his shoulder and maneuvers him towards the bed. He sits further back, with his back against the cold wall, while Cas sits on the edge of the bed, a little too straight, fidgeting with his hands. He takes off his blazer, just to have something to do with himself, and folds it carefully on his lap.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper. “Is that what you want to talk about?”

Dean exhales heavily. “I’m not mad at you,” he replies, his own voice becoming softer. He shifts closer to the edge of the bed and tentatively reaches for Cas’ hand. It feels strange, he’s not entirely used to being allowed to touch him like this, but it feels nice, it excites him like it’s the very first time they’re touching. “I’m just… I didn’t have a great week, okay? and-”

“Can I ask what happened with Cassie?” Cas interrupts him, because he desperately wants to know. “Did she… did she kiss you?”

Dean knows better than to make fun of him for being jealous; he knows just how bitterly jealousy tastes and he can’t bring himself to joke about it.

“No. She wanted me to kiss her but…” he sighs, looks up at the moldy ceiling for a moment. He feels the warmth of Cas’ hand underneath his and it’s comforting, so he goes on. “We used to hook up. A lot. And then sometimes not so much. And then again a lot, and so on and so on and I just- I wanted more and she… never game me a chance, I guess.” Dean feels Castiel’s hand turning around and opening up, their fingers interlocking. “She didn’t trust me, or she just didn’t want me as a boyfriend, I don’t know. Apparently I’m the type of guy you fool around with but not the kind you introduce to your parents.”

“Well, I don’t have any parents to introduce you to, so…”

It’s meant to dissolve the tension or to be funny, but it just comes out a little sad.

“Yeah, Cas, but… but you don’t want to introduce me. To _anybody._ ”

Cas turns around, lifting a leg on the bed to face Dean. He looks sad, guilty even. “Is that what you think? God, Dean, are you afraid I’m going to be just like Cassie?”

He wants to say no, but instead Dean only shrugs, avoiding meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, Cas. What can I say? I always felt you were too good for me.”

“That’s not true,” Cas declares with urgency, moving to straddle Dean’s lap and cupping his face in his hands. He forces Dean to look up. “Don’t say that, that’s not true at all. And this isn’t about us, it’s not because I don’t take this seriously, I promise. I just- it’s not easy for me, Dean. I’m not ready to come out to everyone.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for bringing this up again, but this isn’t easy for me either,” Dean admits, his arms coming up to snake around Castiel’s back, pulling him closer. “I hate that I can’t tell people we’re together. I hate to see my own friends trying to set up my boyfriend with other girls. I hate that I can’t kiss you, or dance with you, or just hold your hand.”

“I _really_ don’t know how to dance, though,” Cas says because he’s nervous and he doesn’t know how to makes this easier, so he says whatever stupid thing he comes up with.

“I don’t give a shit, I’ll teach you,” Dean responds, managing a small smile. “I guess a stupid part of me feels stuck in a deja vu, Cas. I’ve been asked to keep things secret so many times before and it always comes back to bite _me_ in the ass. Just this time, I want to be able to tell people that I love you.”

Castiel’s breath hitches. It takes a moment for Dean’s drunken brain to catch up with what he’s said, but even though he looks slightly embarrassed, he doesn’t take it back, he doesn’t regret saying it. He smiles at Castiel, all hopeful and bittersweet, and he waits. After what feels like an eternity, Cas smiles back, lowering himself to kiss him. It starts out soft, almost innocent, but as Dean presses their bodies impossibly closer, he opens his mouth to receive his boyfriend’s tongue with eagerness. Dean slips his hands under Castiel’s shirt, pulling it out from under his slacks and then he's running his hands up and down the warm skin of Cas' back.

“I love you too,” Castiel says against his lips when they pull back for air.

“Promise me you won’t change your mind,” Dean pleads against his mouth, then trailing kisses up his jaw and then down his neck. Cas feels a shiver run down his spine and his mouth falls open as his eyes remain close. “Promise me this is temporary. Promise me you won’t change your mind about me.”

“I promise,” Castiel says with a heavy, content sigh as Dean pulls away to look up at him.

Dean sighs, slightly relieved. He looks up at his boyfriend and he sees more affection in those sweet eyes of his than he’s seen in most people he’s known for years. He tries to understand and believe that this is serious, Cas is really here, he really loves him, but it’s hard to believe he’s truly that wanted after so many other disappointments.

“Then I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just… don’t take too, long, alright? I want to teach you how to dance.”

They look at each other; neither is fully content, but they’ve got to meet halfway. Cas knows he’s right, they can’t keep this a secret forever, he’s got to come out of the closet someday, and what better way than to do it hand in hand with Dean?

“Okay,” Cas nods shakily. “I’ll try, I promise.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry for the long absence, I was on a trip and then a little bit blocked.  
> I hope you enjoy this one.

～ 4 months later ～

They fall into a pattern and it’s nearly perfect, it’s almost everything Dean’s ever wanted and certainly the happiest he’s ever been, so he swallows his fears, his pride, his concerns, the urges to reach out and grab Castiel’s hand when he smiles at something their friends say, and he goes along with his boyfriend’s rules, taking anything he chooses to give… and he gives a lot, a cascade of affection Dean didn’t know he could be worthy of. He can’t remember the last time someone was so gentle with him and just for the heck of it, just because they could, because they honestly wanted to, without changing their minds later, once they got what they wanted from him.

Wednesdays and Fridays become Dean’s favorite days, including Saturdays when Castiel stays the night the day before or if they go out to a party together. Dean has taken Cas a couple of times to have lunch at Bobby’s on Sunday and though they keep the nature of their relationship a secret, the oldest Winchester is still happy to see his friend being accepted by his adoptive family. Dean also seems to be quite accepted in Castiel’s family; his boyfriend’s brother come to visit and Dean invites them over for drinks. Benny and Hannah go too. Dean and Cas stay at an arm’s length from each other even though these people know about them, but steal kisses in the kitchen when they go to get more beer, because it is a hard task and requires two people. Balthazar and Gabriel throws loads of sexual innuendos just to embarrass the couple but it's harmless teasing, they like Dean, have liked him for a long time already.

They finish their group assignment but Cas’ brothers don’t need to know that; he tells them it’s an annual project, that it’s going to take a lot of work, and they seem delighted by the idea of him being forced to work with a girl, Hannah particularly, for the entire school year. Michael seems even happy for him, truly happy, which should give Cas joy but it only breaks his heart even more that this, through lies and deceit, is the only way that they can get along. He’s not sure Lucifer quite buys the whole _I am now cured of my sins and wrong ways_ act, but he thinks his brother is at least content thinking Castiel isn’t pursuing his true desires; fake it until you make it, he bets that’s how they want him to live his life, act straight until you, maybe, fall in love with a girl. Or don’t, but keep pretending to be straight, for the sake of the family’s name, even if it costs him his happiness.

They spend the afternoons inside Dean’s house, their gay haven, as Dean likes to joke. They study together for other classes, Sam joining them from time to time and then running away to hide in his room when the couple starts making out on the couch (it embarrasses Castiel deeply, but he can’t bring himself to deny Dean the physical contact, his lips are like a drug to him, the sweetest heroin in the world). Other times they watch movies when they run low on homework or when Dean just snatches Castiel’s books away, demanding attention. They get around to making those mixtapes for Cas; they sit inside the garage while Dean works on his car (Castiel must admits he loves to watch him work, the cliché of the sexy, greasy mechanist apparently works for him) and Castiel sits in a corner changing the music when he doesn’t like it while he writes down the songs he wants in his tapes. He likes indie folk more than he likes classic rock, but Dean thinks that’s fine, his boyfriend’s taste in music isn’t too bad.

They take it slow in the bedroom. Well, slower than Dean is used to, anyway. While Cas is hesitant because his lack of experience makes him self conscious, he seems more eager and impatient to touch his boyfriend than the other way around. It’s not that Dean doesn't _want_ to touch him, like he explained to Castiel already, but he feels nervous being with a guy for the first time and while he's got a lot of fantasies playing on repeat in his mind, he wants to take it slow for once in his life; they’re going to be together for a long time, hopefully, so why hurry these things, right?. First, they start off with innocent make out sessions in the afternoons or before going to bed. Waking up together with their legs entangled and their arms around each other in Dean’s small bed is the best feeling ever, except when one of them wakes up with morning wood and then it turns just slightly awkward. One morning, Cas excuses himself out of bed, embarrassed by his erection, but Dean pulls him right back under the sheets. He kisses the other softly, invitingly, and then moves his hands slowly down, giving Castiel plenty of time to stop him if he wanted to, but he doesn't. That's the first time they touch each other and afterwards it becomes a bit of a habit every time they spend the night together. They explore each other's bodies and jerk each other off, loving and memorizing the way the other moans and whimpers and the way their voices sound ragged and needy when they're close to finishing. The way Cas’ jaw falls open and his breath catches, Dean doesn't think anyone's ever looked so beautiful while they come. It takes Castiel a while to get bolder but one particular afternoon they're home alone and in bed kissing each other roughly, he whispers a plea into his boyfriend’s ear. “Dean, I want to go down on you.” If Dean wasn't hard before, he was then. He merely nodded, that was all he could do, and he watched with wide eyes as Cas kissed and nipped his way down his body. When he reached his destination and started pressing gentle kisses over Dean’s dick, he closed his eyes and sighed contently. Cas was a little sloppy, obviously learning as he went, but every touch was decisive and meant to please him as much as possible instead of fast like he was used to; he always had the feeling girls only went down on him so he would go down on them, and not because they really wanted to pleasure him, a kind of implicit quid pro quo. Then again, nobody ever cared for him the way Castiel did. He didn't swallow, not this time, but he didn't seem disgusted by the idea. Dean took longer to go down on his boyfriend and asked Cas not to watch; he felt too vulnerable, a little bit embarrassed and nervous too, out of his comfort zone for sure, but he wanted to do it for Cas, he wanted his boyfriend to feel that kind of pleasure and to have the other come undone under his touch. Anal, for now at least, was out of the question.

Slowly yet faster than he would have imagined, Castiel finds a place amongst Dean’s friends. Apparently, miraculously, they like him; they don't care that he is rather quiet and find his dry, unintentionally serious remarks funny, especially when he is unable to catch up with sarcasm. Benny treats him like they’ve been friends forever, and he likes Fred a lot too. He talks more than he breathes, especially when he’s drunk, and he tries time after time to find a date for Cas (not that he needs help, though, girls keep chasing him around endlessly). He means well and doesn’t realise he’s making Castiel uncomfortable. A part of him is tempted to tell Fred he’s gay, his efforts are futile no matter how gorgeous the girls he tries to introduce Castiel to are, but Cas keeps quiet and goes along with it because Fred’s train of thoughts when he’s drunk are rather funny. Cassie goes back to sit in their table eventually, encouraged by Annie (Cas gives himself a mental pat of the back for _finally_ learning Benny’s girlfriend’s name). There’s an unspoken agreement to not discuss what happened between Dean and Cassie at all, and even though it’s obvious there’s still some kind of residual tension between them because they barely look at each other in the eyes, everyone pretends everything’s just fine, just like it was before. Cas finds that now that Cassie’s not flirting with Dean anymore, he likes her better.

Hannah and Castiel’s relationship improves, it becomes what it should have always been; a regular, honest, rather easy friendship. Now that Castiel doesn’t have to watch what he says, he doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not or dance around Hannah’s feelings, they begin to talk, _really_ talk. Hannah likes to read a lot too and she knows many books Cas hadn't read yet. She gives him some and, in exchange, he lets her pick whichever she wants from his father’s collection under Michael’s careful supervision. The fact that he will let someone from outside the family take one of those books show just how much his brother likes his fake girlfriend. Hannah also plans to apply to the same universities he is hoping to get into and there's a shy part of him that wishes to go to college and have one familiar face there, since Dean won't be going. When they go out to catch a movie, it isn't awkward anymore, he doesn't have to worry about giving her the wrong signals and the tension between them is gone. He even stays the night at her place for real once, sleeps on a mattress on the floor and they stay up and talk for hours. Cas, for the first time, tells someone about his feelings for Dean. At first it is a little strange talking about it with her, all of people, but she listens anyway and then she tells him about a guy she's got her eye on. She asks Castiel for advice on how to pick up guys but he honestly has no idea how he even got a boyfriend in the first place.

John comes back three times. The first time he stays an entire week. For once, Dean wishes he’d leave again right away. When his father is around, the house stops being this safe place where the couple can be together in peace. Dean sits further away from Cas in the couch than he normally does and he grows quiet. Cas knows how it feels to hide all too well, and he plays along just perfectly. He skips going to Dean’s on Friday because there's almost no point hanging out while John is there; Dean is nervous and silent most of the time, his cheerful self drowned down by his family drama, so he tells Castiel to just go and hang out with Hannah, that they can meet later at a friend's house, because of course the parties keep going. When Dean comes back from the party, John is gone again. He comes back a second and third time, staying just a couple of days at the time. They don't argue too much for once, Dean has more or less accepted the way things are now that he has Castiel to keep him happy at home so he doesn't pick up fights with their father anymore. If he is honest with himself, now has a reason to long to be alone in the house - well, not alone, just without John there. He isn't too sure what his father would make of his eldest son being in a relationship with a young man, he can't quite remember John making homophobic remarks but he sure has loads of sexist ideas and Dean cannot for the life of him even begin to imagine coming out to the intimidating, stubborn figure that is his father. This last month, John still hasn't return and Dean isn't counting the days he is absent for once; he'll return when he wants to and there's nothing else Dean can do about it.

It is perfect, nearly perfect, Dean knows that and he tells himself to accept it and be grateful for what he has…

But he also can't stop thinking about all the things he would like to do with Castiel. They’ve gone out to the movies with Benny, his girlfriend and Hannah twice, and it is fun, it is, but he wishes they could go alone. He wishes he could take Castiel’s hand in the dark or make out in the back of the cinema. He wishes they could go alone down to the lake instead of with their friends, or that he could take Castiel’s hand and lead him down the private path where couples go to make out in the woods for a little while during parties, but everyone knows what goes down there and nobody must know what they really are to each other. He wishes they could go out for a drive around town, but he sees the way Castiel gets all nervous and jumpy and looks down the street with fear in his eyes, looking all over expecting to be caught by one of his brothers, so he stops suggesting it. He wishes he could tell his family what they really are, even if the idea terrifies him. He wishes they could work on the car outside of the garage because it gets too hot there sometimes. He wishes he could sit a little bit closer to Cas during lunch, grab his hand under the table, kiss him goodbye on the hallways when they have to get to different classrooms. He would love to dance with him in a party, play 7 Minutes in Heaven and get in a closet with him while their friends giggle and try to listen through the door. He wishes for a lot of things and can't help feeling guilty about it. _Be grateful for what you have, be grateful,_ he tells himself. _This is more than you deserve as it is._

He didn’t have to wait much longer because, for better or for worse, things were about to change, especially for Castiel.

Dean swallows his bitter thoughts with another beer. The music is loud in his ears. He's got no idea what is playing, it’s some bullshit pop thing in Spanish he doesn't know and it’s so bad he is kind of _proud_ not knowing what the hell that thing is. He looks over at the door for the hundredth time but Castiel and Hannah haven't arrived yet. They went out for dinner with Michael and his partner. _Again._ Hannah still plays the part of the girlfriend just fine, and apparently Michael adores her. He is stupid to be jealous because, _really_ , why would he ever want the approval of a guy like that? But, still, it bothers Dean. It drives him insane to think there is someone else out there holding his boyfriend’s hand, even if it's innocent and planned and a total lie. It bothers him because there is nothing he would like more than to be able to do that himself, to parade around town holding Castiel’s hand and telling everyone how in love they are.

When Cas _finally_ arrives with Hannah from yet another double date with his brother, Dean’s face lights up instantly and Benny, who had been sitting next to him drinking and chatting all along, throws his head back and laughs.

His friend leans closer and mutters, “Jesus, don't be so obvious, Dean.”

Dean blushes. “I’m not,” he replies. It takes all he's got to stop himself from jumping off his seat and running towards Cas, who has met his stare and nodded modestly his way, like they're pals and not two guys who will jack each other off when they leave the party and go to Dean’s.

“You're a bad liar when you're drunk.”

“I am not drunk.” But his body has a different opinion; when he gets to his feet too fast, the room spins around him. Benny grabs his elbow to hold him in place. “I just stood up too fast,” Dean says quickly before his friend has the chance to laugh at him.

“That's what they all say, brother,” Benny laughs. He leans in closer again, so no one can hear him over the music, and warns Dean, “just tone down the staring longingly into each other’s eyes, okay? And don't follow him around all night like a puppy.”

Dean frowns, embarrassed at how well his best friend knows him. “I wasn't going to follow him…” he mumbles under his breath, words dragging. He circles around the room trying to get to Cas, who has been dragged to the kitchen by Fred. They both navigate through an ocean of people, Benny hot on Dean’s tale.

Benny chuckles. “Oh, really? Where are we going then?”

“I don't know where _you're_ going,” Dean starts, “but I’m… I... have to take a leak.”

“Sure, okay, totally believable, good save there, Dean,” the other boy teases him.

“Oh, shut up.”

“I'll go keep an eye on Cas. I bet I’ll see you in less than 5 minutes.”

“You don't think I can go 5 minutes without him?” Dean turns around, crossing his arms over his chest, looking ridiculously serious and offended.

The teasing grin in Benny’s lips doesn't waver. If anything, it grows wider. He loves drunk-Dean. “I _know_ you can't.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

Benny raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you're on. Bet you 20 dollars you can't keep away from him for a whole hour.” Dean’s offended look drops ever so slightly and Benny snorts. He knows Dean will say yes because he is dramatic and stubborn, but he really doesn't want to. “I’ll be a good exercise for you, to be around him but not _with_ him. Don't be a clingy boyfriend, Dean. You don't see me around Annie all night long, do you?”

“No, but you at least get to be _with_ her. I swear, if I see another girl hitting on him...” Dean’s grip around his plastic cup tightens and the liquid inside sways dangerously close to the edge.

“Alright, alright, I think I am taking this with me,” Benny says and takes Dean’s cup away. He is always the one to put a limit to the young Winchester’s terrible drinking habits. Dean could drink himself into oblivion if allowed. “See you in an hour, I’ll keep an eye on Novak, keep the girls at bay so you don't murder someone.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, you do that. I’ll be playing poker, I see they're about to start a new game. Half of them suck, should be an easy game. Look after Cas for me.”

“And who's gonna look after you?” Benny teases him. Dean shoots him dagger with his eyes (he looks hilariously drunk) as he walk away. Benny makes his way to the kitchen still laughing. He doesn't find Cas there, so he moves on from room to room until he finds his friend with a group of people outside. He has this completely half awkward, half horrified look on his face as a girl tries to make him sway in place while she dances in front of him with her back to him. As soon as Castiel meets his eyes, there's a pleading look in them. _Help_ they all but shout. “Hey, Cas, could you come with me for a sec?” Benny shouts from the door, giving the poor boy an excuse to flee.

Cas smiles, relieved. He excuses himself and all but runs to Benny.

“Thank you,” he whispers. Then he looks around, searching with hopeful puppy eyes for his boyfriend. “Where’s-”

“Dean?” Benny finishes for him. “Inside, playing strip poker. Wanna watch?” he winks at him and Castiel gulps and blushes furiously. Benny barks a laugh. “You're too easy to mess with, my friend. No, but really, he _is_ playing poker. We made a bet, he has to stay away from you for a full hour or he loses 20 dollars.”

“Can't I just pay you right now and go to hang out with him?” Cas asks, face straight with seriousness. He takes another quick glance inside the house eagerly, eyes still looking for Dean.

“Nah, Cas. Come on, you're one of us now, gotta act the part. Let’s spend some time with the boys.”

“Fred’s been trying to set me up with girls again,” Cas replies, pursing his lips.

“Ah, don't worry about him,” Benny waves his hand dismissively as he puts an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and drags him back towards the kitchen, “half the time it is really a scheme to hook up with them himself.”

Castiel frowns, confused, but he doesn’t ask anything else on the subject. Ash, a friend of Dean’s, steals him away for a little bit to play beer pong because apparently Castiel is a lucky charm for whoever he’s rooting for. After a while, when he realises there are two girls constantly stealing glances in his direction and one of them is seems to be encouraging the other to go talk to him, he decides to make an escape and so Cas sneaks away and joins the boys he’s familiar with in the kitchen. A group of around ten guys are standing in a circle discussing the football season over beer. Most of them Cas is familiar with, although there are two younger students he’s never met before. Out of the ten, he only considers Fred and Benny to be his actual friends, but he’s in friendly terms with other three; they’re Dean’s friends and they’ve shared lunch together in several occasions already. Castiel hasn’t really met the three that are left, although he’s heard plenty about the tallest, Zachariah; he’s quite sure Dean secretly hates him, he’s the only member of the team his boyfriend’s ever complained about and Cas has the feeling Dean avoids him as much as possible. Why, though, he doesn’t know, Dean’s make a good job keeping them apart.

The boys seem excited and joyful, there’s an air of celebration around the group. Someone’s saying there’s a rumour coaches from fancy universities are coming to see them play in their next game because they’ve been playing so well lately, they’ve won all but one match, which they tied, in the season so far and they’re confident they’re going to keep winning because their team works like clockwork and they’re all strong and fit. Cas has gone to see some of the matches and he agrees that they seem to work very well together, although he’s no expert and normally wouldn’t care for sports, but he goes to support Dean. His boyfriend would never ask him directly to go because he knows Castiel isn’t truly interested, but the way Dean’s face lights up when he sees Cas in the stands cheering for him is a good enough reason for the young Novak to want to attend. He normally sits with Sam or with Hannah, Annie and Cassie -yes, he’s rather fond of Cassie now. Green eyes always look for the familiar blue in an ocean of people, all the way from the field, and every time they find each other there’s a private smile in Dean’s lips, just for him. It makes Cas’ insides flutter and he wishes that they could be more open about the nature of their relationship, he wishes it didn’t all have to come down to short glances between them every now and then when they’re out in public.

He should have been careful what he wished for.

“What do you think, Cas?” Fred asks him in an attempt to bring him into the conversation, probably. “We need an outsider’s opinion, maybe we’re too far up our own asses. We’ve been playing rather well, though, don’t you think?” he elbows Castiel on the ribs, smiling proudly of himself. He’s got a slightly absent look in his eyes and Cas knows he’s somewhat drunk. “If I get a scholarship, my mum’s going to cry.”

Zachariah scoffs, smirking slightly. “What the hell are you asking his opinion for? Novak doesn't know squat about football,” he comments, lips hovering over his cup of beer.

Cas squints his eyes ever so slightly; he doesn’t like Zack’s tone at all, but he isn’t quite wrong with what he’s just said either, so he doesn’t take it personal, he lets it slip. Still, Cas knows there’s something hidden in his words, some other offense that he’s not been open about just yet. Maybe it’s a warning, maybe Zachariah doesn’t like the new addition to the group. That’s fine, Cas figures, because he’s never met Zack before but he already doesn’t like him much, so he will make sure he avoids him from now on, just like Dean does.

An instinct of self-preservation, one that he’s developed after living under the careful, vigilant eyes of his brothers, tells him that he’d better get the attention off of himself and let Zack know Castiel isn’t a threat to him.

“He’s not wrong,” Cas shrugs unimportantly while keeping a neutral, poker face.

“Hey, come on now, you’ve come to see us play a bunch of times,” Fred replies cheerfully, clearly ignorant to the evident maliciousness with which Zachariah spoke of Cas.

“You mean he's come to see _Dean_ play,” Zachariah corrects him. Something inside Castiel’s stomach drops and he takes a zip of beer to be able to swallow the fat lump on his throat. He’s got a bad feeling about this, he’s sure he knows where the jerk is going with the conversation now and he doesn't want to go down that road. The boys around them don’t say anything, either oblivious to the implications of Zechariah’s words or because they're simply unwilling to engage, but a side glance on Benny’s direction allows Castiel to see what Dean’s best friend has also picked up there’s some other intention coming from the asshole that’s talking and he seems to like it just as much as Castiel does. “Oh come on, don't tell me I am the only one who has noticed. He follows Dean around like a puppy.”

“Hey, back off, Zack, alright? He's one of us now,” Benny tells him and it doesn't take much for Castiel to notice he's making a great effort to keep his tone neutral, slightly teasing if possible, to avoid making things worse, but it doesn't ease Zachariah at all.

“One of us?” He huffs a laugh and puts his cup down on the counter. He looks at Castiel up and down and Cas does everything is his power to look unaltered by the sudden unwanted attention. “He could not be more different than us, Dean is the only thing we've in common with him,” he continues. Castiel is now aware of how formal he looks; he did indeed dressed with a nice pair of dark slacks and a white shirt for the double date with his brother, while everyone else looks casual here in the party. He _is_ different, inside and outside, and Zachariah knows it and probably everyone else does. For once, Cas doesn't like to be reminded of it, not now when he had started feeling like, maybe, he did belong after all. Castiel tries to remember what Dean always tells him, that it isn't bad to be different and that that doesn't mean he doesn't have a place amongst the rest of the people around him. Right now, though, he feels like a fish out of water. Not just that, but a fish that is about to be thrown in the grill to later be devoured, but he doesn't know how to stop Zachariah from ranting on.

“Oh, piss off, Zachariah,” Fred tells him, rolling his eyes, but the other guy continues to speak over him.

“And I suspect we don't even share Dean in the same way, do we, Castiel?” he winks at Cas with a knowing smile. Now, all eyes turn towards Cas and he wonders how bad it would look if he just walked away from the conversation.

“What are you implying? Just spit it out already,” one of Dean’s friends asks. Castiel is surprised to see he looks slightly annoyed.

“I mean, you have noticed Castiel here has rejected _every_ single girl that comes up to him, right? And he always leaves with Dean? There's some funny business going on there.”

Cas swallows hard. He doesn't know what to say, how to defend himself, especially when Zachariah is perfectly right. Castiel is a bad liar, even more so under pressure, and the words are just frozen on the tip of his tongue. He should tell Zack to fuck off, or maybe do a joke to lighten up the mood, but he is stuck, his mind working at half speed compared to that of his opponent. He feels the rest of the boys’ eyes on him and all he wants is to run away, go home and hide like he always did.

“Look, he isn't even trying to deny it!” Zachariah smiles triumphantly.

“He doesn't like to be under the spotlight, you asshole, so shut up,” Benny barks at him. Castiel notices then that he too has put his drink down and his hands are curled into fists.

“Bet he likes to be under Dean,” Zachariah laughs.

Castiel doesn't have time to see the reaction on other people's faces because he is busy grabbing onto Benny, who has threateningly lunged towards.

“Don't,” Cas tells him, pushing his friend back. Then he turns to Zechariah who still has a mocking smirk on his stupid face. Now he knows exactly why Dean hates him. “I've nothing to prove to you,” he manages to say with a firm voice he is thankful for because he feels all but brave right now.

“Oh, but you _should_. It should be our right to know if he's a homosexual, right?” Zack asks, looking around the group. Some hold his stare, some look down, others steal quick, curious glances on Castiel’s direction, as if they could spot the gay in him if they looked hard enough. Cas focus on Benny, who looks like he is about to murder Zachariah, because he doesn’t want to deal with everyone’s reaction.

Castiel’s brain is screaming at him to do something, say something, deny the accusations, act offended at the idea of Dean and him being anything more than good friends because he is being outed in the worst possible way and he is so not ready for it, and still he's not doing anything to defend himself. And why should he, anyway? Homosexual is not an offensive word, at least Castiel’s never thought of it that way, although somehow in Zachariah’s mouth, the way he said it, the accusatory implication that accompanied the word, it _sounded_ like an insult, it’s meant to be one. Still, why should he _defend_ himself when there's nothing wrong with him, nothing he’s sorry for? There's nothing wrong with what he does with Dean or what they feel for each other; Dean is kind and loving and Castiel has never felt happier before so all the rest of the world must have all lied to him when they taught him this was a sin… so why on Earth would he apologize for any of it?

“Okay, Zachariah, you need to back off, man. Seriously,” Fred warns him, standing straight next to Cas and looking perfectly sober and serious. Castiel realises a tense silence has settled, there's just background music coming from somewhere in the house and people coming into the kitchen to get drinks are staring, confused and curious.

“Dude, come on, it doesn't bother you, not even a little bit?” Zachariah asks him. “They let him shower with us in the same bathroom after gym class, that's just wrong, he sees us naked, guys. It's disgusting.”

Castiel’s instinct is to shut the fuck up and he's done a great job so far, his entire frigging life really, but suddenly he is breaking out of his shy mold. He is tired. He is tired of always taking shit from people and nodding silently and letting them give him their unwanted opinions. He is tired of having people tell him he is wrong, weird, sick, sinful, disgusting. He doesn't know what comes over him, if he has finally found his courage buried somewhere deep inside his soul or if it is the alcohol talking, but he's looking at Zachariah with a casually blank, almost mocking expression before he says, voice dead serious and flat, “are you always this stupid or are you making a special effort today? You don't need to worry about me, I am not into ignorant assholes.”

There's a round of snorts coming from almost everyone, and Fred actually looks at Cas, eyebrows raised in surprised, and he laughs loudly. Benny has this proud smile on his face and he chuckles under his breath.

Zachariah’s face twist in anger and Castiel tries to stand up straight against him, even though the knowledge that the guy could probably beat the crap out of him crosses his mind instantly. “Oh, so you do admit you're a fag, then?”

“What the hell did you just call him?” Benny growled, and this time both Cas and another of Dean’s friends have to grab him to stop him from jumping towards Zachariah.

Zack moves forwards to meet him and Benny struggles with his friends to break free. The younger students get out of the way quickly while Fred and another member of the team stand in front of Zack to stop him from starting a fight.

“Fuck off, mate, you can't say shit like that!” Fred challenges him yet doesn't make a move to punch him. He isn't the type to start a fight, but that's okay by Castiel, the last thing he wants is to cause trouble.

Annie and Cassie come through the crowd, pushing away the people who are standing around watching the whole thing away, and then there's Dean right behind them.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dean asks, looking around his friends. Benny might be the captain of the team but there's an undeniable air of leadership coming from Dean that everyone respects, and people stand aside to let him through.

“Hey, Winchester did you know Novak's a faggot?” Zachariah asks him with a mocking smirk.

Dean's face drops and turns into something Castiel’s never seen before. He looks _dangerous._ He doesn't even need to raise his voice to sound scary. “What did you just say?”

Cas lets go of Benny to stand in front of his boyfriend instead and fists his shirt before he does something stupid. “Dean, let it go.”

“Cas,” Dean frowns at him and there's disbelief in his tone. He tries to silently ask Castiel a question, _what the hell happened?, do they know about you, about us?_ Cas, at the same, time tries to tell him not to make things worse by getting angry. Zachariah is not the first person that is unkind to him because of his sexual preferences and he certainly won't be the last, and they can't just punch every homophobe they meet.

Benny exhales loudly. “Let’s get out of here, I can’t stand so much stupidity at once,” he tells Dean and Castiel through gritted teeth.

Dean takes a deep breath. Cas nods encouragingly and gently pushes him backwards, towards the exit, away from Zachariah.

But Zachariah just doesn’t know when to shut up. “That's right, hide behind your boyfriends, Castiel.”

The look of utter fury in Dean’s face makes Castiel automatically think _oh, shit_. He knows there’s no stopping Dean now.

“Actually,” Dean starts, moving Castiel out of the way, “it's just the _one_ boyfriend.”

Dean is the first one to throw a punch and he gets Zachariah but not two seconds later, a fist crashes on the side of Castiel’s face when he attempts to shield Dean from it. The full power of it and the alcohol that makes his brain a little stupid already do a number on him and he stumbles to one side and drops to his knees, confused and temporarily blinded with pain. He hears a bunch of people screaming, feels someone pulling him up from under his armpits and a whole bunch of other guys jumping to break the fight, pushing him and whoever’s holding him away from the center of it. He hears glass breaking and Dean and Zachariah shouting curses and threats at each other.

Then a voice comes shouting at them all from above the rest. It’s Mark, the owner of the house. “Alright, alright, what the hell is going on? Do I need to kick you guys the fuck out? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Cas, you alright?” Fred mumbles on his ear. Cas looks around to see him standing behind him, still holding him.

Castiel nods and pushes himself away. Three guys are holding Zachariah while a large group makes a barrier between Benny and Dean and their opponent. Even Annie and Cassie has jumped in to stop them.

“He started it!” Zachariah yells at Dean. His nose is bleeding, Dean got him good.

“That’s not true, you homophobe piece of shit!” Dean shouts back.

“I don’t care who started it, I am finishing it! Drop it or get the hell out of my house” Mark barks at the two of them.

Dean’s breathing heavily, his eyes locked on Zachariah’s. He runs a hand nervously through his hair and that’s when Castiel notices he’s bleeding; there’s a cut hidden under his hair and blood’s shyly starting to drip down Dean’s forehead.

“Dean! Are you alright?” Cas pushes through the crowd towards his boyfriend and cups Dean’s face in his hands to examine the injury.

They’re so close, closer than they allow themselves to be in public. Dean’s hand automatically comes up to rest on top of Castiel’s. He is trying to come down from his blinding rage, and the sweet, concerned look on his angel’s face is just what he needs to calm down. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine, Cas.”

Castiel notices there’s something odd. There’s complete silence in the room. When the couple lift their gazes, they find that everyone is looking at them.

Cassie breaks the silence. “What the hell are you all looking at? Show's over, mind your own business, people.”

Dean looks at her, eyes wide, impressed, and he mouths a _thank you_ to her. She gives him a small smile, and then Benny is pushing Dean away, out of the kitchen.

“Come on, let’s go, I don’t want to look at his dumb face anymore.”

Just as they’re leaving, Mark puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder to stop him. “Bro, you don’t have to leave,” he whispers as he leans closer to his friend. The meaning is obvious; _I know it’s Zachariah’s fault, not yours._

“That’s alright, Mark, I gotta get home to Sammy,” Dean lies because he loves his friends but right now he needs to be alone with Castiel. He smiling at Mark once before looking back at Cas. Their fingers interlock, in public, for the first time and, strangely enough, neither of them care people are still looking at them. “Come on, Cas, let’s go home.”


	22. Chapter 22

Dean’s voice seems to come from a distant place. A hand on his shoulder wakes Castiel up from whatever trance he was in, startling and turning around to find himself face to face in the kitchen with his boyfriend, who’s wearing a very concern (and sleepy) look on his face.

“Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry. I called but you, hmm, didn't hear me. You okay?”

After a moment of debating with himself, Castiel ends up shrugging and shaking his head at the same time. The old him wants to pretend he's fine, he's strong, he doesn’t need anyone to lean on, but a voice in the back of his head reminds him this is Dean he’s talking to, his  _ boyfriend _ , he can open up to him and tell him his levels of anxiety are off the charts this morning. Whatever bravery had gone over him last night when he so willingly stood up to a bully, accepting in front of a whole crowd that he was gay, was gone today. Only fear and stress were left for him to feel today.

Dean frowns, his worry intensifying; Cas looks pale and shaky. 

“Cas, it’s fine, it’s not like your brothers hang out with teenagers. How could they possibly find out?” Dean tries to brush off his worries, pulling Castiel into his arms. The other feels tense under his arms.

“Dozens of people know, Dean, anyone could tell them,” Cas reply, barely returning the embrace but still allowing Dean to hold him closely. Something about feeling that other heartbeat against his chest is slightly comforting, he has to admit.

“Zachariah is a douchebag, but not even him would go knocking on your door and tell your brothers you’re with me.”

“You don’t know that. He might, the asshole. Damn it, I should have just told him to get lost or something, I should have denied the things he was saying,” Cas laments, resting his forehead in Dean’s shoulder for a moment.

“Then why didn’t you?” Dean asks, genuinely curious. He arrived too late to help Castiel out of the situation before it got out of hand. By the time he’d heard people in the party saying there was something going on on the kitchen and he’d run to check on Cas, it was too late; Zachariah had said too much and Castiel too little to deny what was being said about me.

Cas tries to think of a logical answer but he can’t. “I just… I don’t know. I was just tired of letting people mess with me, I guess. And I’m not- I’m not  _ ashamed _ of being with you, and he made it all sound like it was so wrong, like I was a perv or something. It bothered me. There’s nothing wrong with us, with this.” His hands gently trail down the sides of Dean’s arms until their hands find each other and their fingers interlock.

Dean smiles, breathing in the smell of Castiel’s hair. It always smells like grass, somehow, even though Castiel’s rarely ever outside.

“Listen, Cas. If you’re really that worried, maybe you should crash here for a while. You know, to make sure that… hmm… everything’s okay at your place.”

Castiel looks up and there’s a darkness behind his eyes that threatens to drown anything good and happy in him. “You mean in case my brother tries to beat the gay out of me again?”

His boyfriend swallows hard and nods.

“It’ll be alright,” Castiel mumbles, mostly to himself, and turns away towards his forgotten tea.

“No, Cas, I-” Dean sighs and pulls him back around. “If it gets bad, you have a home here, okay? So don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright.”

As much as he wants to believe that, Dean’s words do nothing to ease Castiel’s worries. If anything, they make everything worse; the threat of becoming homeless, of losing everything, is way more real when someone else says it out loud. If his eldest brothers find out about him, it would be bad,  _ really  _ bad for him. He feels that warm, invisible weight of anxiety pressing down his chest, expanding through his veins to the very tip of his fingers, making it harder to breath and he has to look away from Dean before his boyfriend sees the snowball of feelings he’s trying to hide reflected in his eyes.

“We’re going to Bobby’s, right?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject because if he continues to talk about this, he’s going to succumb to a panic attack sooner or later… He’d rather it were later in the privacy of his room, back at home, where nobody can see him, not even Dean.

He fools no one, of course, but Dean still lets the subject be changed. By now, he knows better than to try to push Castiel into conversations he’s not ready to have.

“Yeah, Sammy’s in the bathroom, we’re heading out as soon as he’s done. You sure you wanna come?”

Castiel nods several times, only tops to sip some of his tea. He tries to focus on the hot liquid travelling down until it reaches his empty stomach, or the warm porcelain in the palm of his hands, or the fact that Dean buys tea and keeps it in his home just for him, he really does, but memories of Lucifer’s fist colliding with his face slip through the cracks and poison his mind. He’s going to have a light lunch today. 

All the way in the car, Cas looks out the window nervously and wonders at every stop if someone’s going to turn around, recognise him and point fingers at him, the kid that just kind of accidentally came out of the closet last night. He sees people coming in and out of church and he feels the strangest urge to get out of the car, find a priest and ask for forgiveness, but he reminds himself he doesn’t do that anymore, he’s not sorry for who he is or at least he’s trying not crush whatever feelings of negativity are still imprinted in his brain. When they get to Bobby’s, things do get easier and both of them start to relax inside the safety of four walls and four people who love them. Dean figures now that everyone at school knows about the two of them (because news travel fast and he is counting on gossip about them starting up soon), he could come out to Ellen and Bobby about his feelings for Cas. He sits in the couch next to the man he sees as a father, stealing glances at him over the corner of his eye, and fidgets with the hem of his shirt. His heart warms as Bobby explains the moves of the team they’re rooting for (because of course they’re watching football) to Castiel, who looks more confused over the game than he’s ever seemed to be about anything before. Chemistry he gets, but sports leave him clueless and confused. Cas seems to be finally calm, or at least distracted, and listens carefully to Bobby. They like each other, the old grump and the quiet teen. Ellen comes and sits in the arm of the couch and offers Bobby a beer and a new cup of tea for Castiel, then runs a hand through his ever messy hair as she walks away. Dean knows there’s nothing to be afraid of, his family won’t turn their backs on them like the Novaks might, but he’s not going to tell them, not today, not until Castiel is ready.

Lunch is a nice affair; the stew Bobby made is ideal to keep them warm through the last days of winter and Dean is pleased to see he put extra potatoes in them because he knows how much the oldest Winchester loves it, and Ellen bought their favorite kind of bread too. Jo and Sam are whispering in a corner about Game of Thrones while Castiel keeps throwing happy glances at the pie Ellen’s put aside for dessert. He eats quietly but with a small, content smile on his lips as he watches the family talk and talk and talk. Bobby’s telling Dean about some courses he could take to step up his game as a mechanic, Jo is bragging about her grades and Sam is telling them all about the science fair that’s coming soon and what he plans to do. It’s messy and loud, the topics of conversation change constantly and Cas barely has time to keep up while there are sometimes two different conversations going on simultaneously. It’s so different from what he’s used to; at the Novak’s, they rarely ever speak to each other over meals. Both for Anna and for himself, they rather finish quickly and get away soon before their brothers can interrogate them in things they won’t feel like talking about. Cas thinks he prefers this, he finds some strange comfort in the background noise of people he likes speaking to each other while he eats. If only he could spend every Sunday with them…

After lunch, Ellen serves pie. Both Dean and Castiel lean over the table excitedly to get their plates. Dean just loves the way Castiel lights up when he’s offered something sweet, knowing he rarely ever gets anything of the sort at the Novak’s. Afterwards, Bobby and Ellen go into the living room to watch a movie while the couple remains at the table with Jo and Sam playing Uno. Cas, apparently, has a gift for the game.

“Beginner’s luck,” Dean huffs with irritation when Cas wins three out of four games. He hasn’t come even close to winning and ended this last round with 13 cards on his hands.

“That’s what losers say, Dean,” Sam teases him. He won the one time Cas didn’t.

Dean rolls his eyes at his brother. “Are you going to deal or what?”

“You wanna play again?”

“Of course!” Jo and Dean reply at the same time, way too passionately. Neither likes to lose.

Cas laughs and picks his cards one by one as Sam lays them in front of each of them over the table. He got a wild card. He tries not to smile, but he has a good feeling about the game and they haven’t even started yet.

“Ah, fuck, did you get a wild +4, Cas?” Dean interrogates him as he squints his eyes at his boyfriend. Castiel merely chuckles as Dean pouts. “Come on, let me win  _ once _ , I-”

“Hey, Cas,” Bobby suddenly calls him, head popping from behind the door leading to the living room. The four of them turn around to look at him. “Come here for a second, son.”

Castiel is about to put his cards down on the table when he sees the hungry look in Dean and Jo’s faces. Not trusting them not to take a peek at his cards, he puts them in his pocket and follows Bobby out of the kitchen laughing under his breath.

“Ah, come on, man! If you don’t believe in luck, then let’s exchange hands!” Dean begs him, following him out of the room too before he knows what he’s doing. He runs straight into Cas, who had stopped abruptly when he saw his two oldest brothers standing in Bobby’s living room and Anna waiting awkwardly behind them looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Lucifer,” the blue-eyed boy chokes on his brother’s name, and it’s so low only Dean can actually hear him.

The two eldest Novaks look tremendously out of place in Bobby’s living room, something like authorities who have come to fetch a criminal. They’re wearing the simple but nice two piece suits they always take to church and somber expressions in their faces. Michael looks unforgiven and dead serious, like he’s found out Castiel murdered someone, while in contrast there’s this spark of wickedness and triumph behind Lucifer’s eyes despite his obvious anger. It makes Castiel’s knees tremble. For a moment, he wonders if he’s gone mental because he cannot conceive the fact that he’s been caught in the worst possible place; at his boyfriend’s family’s house on a Sunday, while he said he’d be attending church with Hannah’s family. Anna is trying to catch his eyes, trying to warn him about something, peeking from behind Michael as she stands on the tip of her toes, but he can’t see anything but the tall, menacing figures of his siblings teaming up and towering over him. Bobby, Ellen and Dean stare. The two adults look confused and throw the Novaks discreetly unfriendly glances and then share questioning looks with each other, while Dean tries to think of something to say, a lie he can tell to help Castiel out of this situation. Maybe Cas could say he’s dating Jo, cheating on Hannah. Maybe cheating won’t be worse than being gay for the Novaks.

“Castiel,” Michael speaks, demanding his attention. His younger brother almost jumps at the sound of his name and tears his eyes away from Lucifer to meet Michael’. “What are you doing here?” He sounds disappointed and angry, speaking in that particularly low tone he saves for when he’s about to demand something from them, something they’re not going to like.

Cas opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. He can’t breath. He’s frozen, except for his hands, which are shaking. He’s aware of everyone’s eyes on him, of his blood running wildly through his veins, a ringing in his ears and every single movement Lucifer’s hands make.

“No need to discuss that here, Michael,” Lucifer says, almost singing his words. He sounds dangerously calm, almost amused, the psycho. He takes a step towards Castiel, who wishes to take a step back in return, but can’t bring his feet to move. Lucifer reaches a hand towards him, ordering Cas to follow him, and gestures with his head towards the door. “We’ll get to it at home, won’t we, Cassie?”

Almost drowning in his brother’s own blue eyes and the intensity with which they’re looking at him, he is barely conscious of Anna frantically shaking her head behind their brothers. His body wants to obey his brother but his brain tells him that’s a terrible,  _ terrible _ idea.  _ If you go now, you’ll never come back to this place. You’ll never see Dean again. _

“No,” he replies so weakly that he could barely hear himself. He’s not brave enough to stand up to his brothers but at the same time he’s not suicidal enough to leave this house with them right there and then. He knows very well what awaits for him back home and fears what might come afterwards; would they send him away? Would they keep him from seeing Dean for the rest of the school year? What would his face look like after a second beating? What would the rest of his family do, would this start a war between brothers? Gabriel wouldn’t let this slip a second time.

Lucifer narrows his eyes at his brother. “What did you say?” he challenges him.

“He said no,” Dean replies with confidence. It’s so loud on Castiel’s ear, he jumps, nearly having forgotten about his presence. Suddenly Cas is strangely aware of the cards in the pockets of his pants. He remembers, with the tiniest bit of hope in his heart, that he isn’t alone this time around. He might not be able to speak up but Dean will.

Everyone’s eyes go from Castiel to Dean and the young Winchester stares right back into Lucifer’s blue with determination, lifting his chin proudly and making himself as tall as possible. He still has some growing to do and he’s shorter than Lucifer, for now at least, and he admits the older man looks intimidating, but he won’t let himself be bullied in his own home -because, yes, this is his home too.

“I take it you’re Dean,” Lucifer mutters with a mocking tone, looking at the boy up and down once. He huffs a laugh and looks back at Castiel. “Really, Cas? This guy? If you’re going to Hell, might as well have enjoyed the ride and picked a guy with a bit more class and money, right?”

“Lucifer, enough,” Michael orders. It’s not like him to make a scene, which tells Castiel just how bad the situation is if he’s letting himself sound irritated in front of strangers. “Castiel, let’s go home. Now.” 

There’s no room for discussion in his demand. There’s an air about him unlike anything Castiel’s ever seen before; he’s furious, truly furious, and if he didn’t help him against Lucifer the first time around, he might even join him now with the way he’s looking at Cas, like he deserves God’s personal punishment for what he’s done, whatever it is that they know. He will most likely not hit him, but this time he will punish the boy himself somehow.

Castiel’s stomach tightens into a ball and he almost takes a step forward out of fear, because he’s never said no to Michael before and he doesn’t know how to… but then there’s a hand on his shoulder that grounds him to back into his senses and he turns his head around to see Bobby staring at him with soft, kind eyes and father-like concern.

“Boy, you don’t need to go nowhere, you hear me?” he tells Cas with much needed gentleness, as if the rest couldn’t listen or didn’t exist. “You stay right here with us.”

While fighting the dichotomy in his mind, the part that was taught to obey and the part that knows he’s screwed if he does, Cas can only stare back at Bobby with pleading eyes.  _ Don’t let them take me, _ he begs silently, hoping Bobby will understand. 

He does. He nods once and smiles at him like nothing’s wrong, his grip on Castiel’s shoulder tightening for a moment in a reassuring way.  _ I’ve got you, boy. _ There and then, Cas knows Bobby knows everything he’d been trying to hide without even needing to ask. It’s surprising to him sometimes how well the old man can read him, even though they don’t really speak much.

“This is a family matter,” Lucifer tells the old man.

“Well, this boy is family,” Bobby replies, looking at Lucifer without any fear or respect, “so if you’ve got something to discuss with him, you can do it right here and now.”

Michael inhales sharply and walks up to Castiel until their noses are barely touching. The best Cas can do is not flinch and stand up as tall as possible. “Castiel, this is ridiculous. Let’s  _ go _ . We’re not discussing this here.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Dean steps up, getting between the two of them, decidedly ignoring the fact that Michael is taller and bigger than him.

“Dean Winchester, you’ve done more than enough, so I suggest you stay out of this,” Michael whispers in a threatening tone, leaning into Dean’s face and looking down at him as if Dean were a stupid toddler he was talking to.

It’s all Ellen and Bobby need to decide these people need to get the hell out.

“You think you can come into this house and threaten our boys?” she fumes as she goes to stand next to Dean. “You need to get out.”

“You heard her the lady,” Bobby agrees.

Anna stares back and forth between the adults. The poor girl seems about to break down in tears. Suddenly, she turns around and bolts out the door. Castiel feels a stab of pain in his gut, a pain fueled by a nasty feeling of betrayal; how could she leave him now? How could she stand there silently and say or do nothing? He would, for her, if the roles were reversed.

“You come with us now, Cassie, or you’ll regret it,” Lucifer threatens him. “You had your fun, now it’s time to accept the consequences.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Jo asks from behind the door.

Lucifer takes the moment of distraction of grab Castiel’s arm and push him forwards, towards the door. Cas startles and jumps backwards to resists the movement at the same time Dean grabs Lucifer’s hand and tries to yank it away. The man moves his free hand as if to strike Dean and Michael pushes him away from the younger men.

“Lucifer, no!” he barks, pushing his brother towards the door. “You can’t. Not him, and not here.”

Castiel’s own anger finally sparks and before he has time to think what he’s doing, he follows Michael as he retreats towards the door. “I don’t understand you! How can you- how  _ dare _ you- you were supposed to  _ protect _ us! Protect me! From  _ him _ !” he shouts, pointing a finger at Lucifer in accusation. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling quickly. He wants to calm down because he’s dangerously close to crying out of sheer rage and he doesn’t want to give them the pleasure to see him like that.

“I  _ am _ protecting you!” Michael shouts back. “From yourself, Castiel, from your sins!”

“It’s God’s job to judge me, not yours!”

“You insolent, little shit-” Lucifer starts again, but Michael throws the door open and nearly pushes him out.

“I’ll give you a couple of hours to think this over, brother,” he warns him, pointing a finger at him. “You can come back and face the consequences of your actions, or you can stay here and lead a sinful life, but you won’t be a part of the family anymore. You can have a life or you can have him.”

Ellen pushes the door close behind them. It hits the door frame with a loud noise and then there’s complete silence for a couple of minutes. Jo and Sam look like small, frightened children who have walked into something they really wish they hadn’t seen, standing close together in the doorway. Dean doesn’t know what to say, what to do, while Cas is standing in the middle of the room, his jaw set and his eyes focused on the door Ellen’s just closed. Hands curled into fists, he was doing everything in his power not to cry.

“Son,” Bobby starts carefully, “why don’t you take a seat?”

He doesn’t responds but just shakes his head once. He doesn’t want to sit, he doesn’t think he can move.

Dean swallows and takes slow, calculated steps towards him, reaching to takes his hands but stopping when he’s nearly there, suddenly too aware of the people in the room watching them. “Cas… Cas, it’s okay, we can-”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Castiel’s head snaps up his way and he’s met with hard eyes. “Have you gone mad? Nothing’s okay! Your friends, your fucking friends-” Castiel inhales sharply, running his hands through his hair. His jaw looks like it’s about to pop and for a moment Dean worries a vein in the side of his forehead is going to explode. Castiel looks unfairly angry at him and he does his best not to take it personal. “And my sister- Jesus, she’s there with them-” He can’t help worrying about her even though she doesn’t about him, apparently. What if they turn on her? What if they find out she knew he was lying all along and punish her too somehow? What if Lucifer decides to let out his frustrations on her? “God, I have to go!”

Castiel moves towards the door, but Dean runs to jump in front of it.

“Cas, stop! You can’t go with them!”

“I have to!” he insists, fisting the front of Dean’s jacket. “I have to protect her. You’d do it for Sam too, wouldn’t you?” Dean swallows hard because he can’t argue with that, but he fights back as Cas tries to push him away from the door. He’s not letting him go, he can’t. “And you don’t know what they’re like, Dean. They  _ mean _ their threats. If I don’t go, they’ll cut me out from the family completely. I will be  _ homeless _ , do you not understand? I won’t see a penny of my inheritage until I am of age!”

“If that’s your concern, Castiel, you have to know you can always stay with us,” Ellen interrupts, stepping in to place a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got a home here.”

“And your sister too, if she needs it,” Bobby adds.

“She can stay in my room,” Jo mumbles shyly. She’s not sure what’s happening, but she’s there for Cas anyway.

“Really?” Cas whispers, his voice barely audible, as he turns to look at Bobby.

“Of course, you idjit. We’re not just going to let you sleep on the street.”

Cas give him a small smile, but it looks strained and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Cas, I am sure they won’t hurt your sister,” Dean tells him softly as his hands come to rest of his wrist. He doesn’t push Castiel away though. “They have no reason to. You’re just… You need time to process this.”

Castiel lets him go slowly and tries to control his breathing. He feels so wrong for so many different reasons. He’s embarrassed, worried beyond reason, heartbroken, furious… He opens and closes his fists over and over again, and walks backwards, away from Dean.

“You’re right. I need… I need some privacy.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. We can go upstairs. Or do rather we go home?”

“No, I- I need to be alone,” he tells Dean, avoiding his eyes. The other tries not to take it personal, but fails. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” he mumbles as he looks around the room.

“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart,” Ellen tells him, running a hand down his back.

Cas doesn’t feel worthy of it. He puts his hand on the doorknob and Dean visibly tenses up. “I’m just going for a walk, Dean. If you’ll excuse me…”

Rather unwillingly, Dean steps aside and lets him walk away. It feels wrong and he wonders if he should run after him. He wants to, he wants to ask Castiel not to push him away, he wants his boyfriend to open up and let him help, but at the same time he doesn’t want to force him and Dean’s never been one to go where he doesn’t feel welcome. Right now, they feel like they’re worlds apart.

When he turns around, he nearly walks into Sammy. “He can stay with us, Dean. I don’t mind, really.”

“I think he’d better stay with us,” Bobby insists. “If your daddy comes back and find you two… I don’t know what John would say, but I rather not risk more drama. Kid’s been through enough.”

Dean nods in agreement, leaning his back against the door and purposely avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Jo, Sam, can you give us a minute, please?” Ellen asks gently. A second later, he hears them dragging their feet out of the room. Two fingers are in his chin then, lifting his face up until their eyes meet. She looks at him with that maternal gentleness of hers, like he’s her own kid. Sometimes he pretend she is, even though no one will ever replace Mary. “Dean, are Castiel’s brothers…  _ dangerous _ ? We could call the police.”

“No, no, he doesn’t want that, Cas just-” Dean takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “He just wants everything to stop, I guess. He doesn’t want more trouble.”

“Sounds to me like he’s in about as much trouble as he can be, whether he likes it or not,” Bobby says, moving slowly to sit down on the couch. “But he’ll be fine with us, I promise. Is that why you didn’t tell us about the two of you, boy? I mean, of course we knew anyway, you’ve got love-struck written all over your forehead and you’ve never brought anyone over so often.” Dean’s cheeks fire up and Ellen chuckles.

“We didn’t want to say anything until you decided to talk to us about it,” Ellen adds, “but you’re as obvious as it gets, Dean.”

Dean scratches the back of his neck nervously. The heat in his cheeks is a little annoying. He’s nervous but at the same time he feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders; this is the closest he’s ever going to get to coming out to his parents. In a way, Bobby and Ellen  _ are _ his parents.

“So you… you don’t mind? About me and Cas?”

“Son, I wouldn’t care if Castiel were a damn frog if he makes you that happy,” Bobby tells him, grinning teasingly under his beard. 

Dean laughs and Ellen smiles at him, patting his cheek once before going to sit next to Bobby. Watching them sit together, fitting perfectly in the couch like they belong there with each other whether they wanna admit they’re a thing or not, Dean thinks of Cas again, walking alone out there, escaping even his own boyfriend’s company when he’s down. He wonders how long it’s going to take Castiel to stop pushing him away when he needs help. Dean hates that annoying habit of his to alienate himself from everyone else when he’s hurting. Even after months together, even after all the efforts Dean made to make him a part of his life, his family, even after exchanging  _ I love you _ s at night between sleepy kisses, there’s still this barrier between Dean hasn’t been able to break down. He wonders with a nasty feeling in his gut if he ever will and, if not, then if he can take it forever.

“Give him time, Dean. He’ll come back,” Ellen, who can read him like an open book, comforts him. “He’s just a boy and this… this is a tough position he’s in. He’s going to need you. Relationships aren’t always easy, honey, and I think you’re about to learn that the hard way.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the shittiest posting schedule ever.

Castiel walks around the neighbourhood and at some point ends up sitting in a bench in a park. He’s been there before a couple of times and yet he feels absolutely lost. Once he’s stopped moving, he becomes cold really fast; he didn’t bring his jacket out with him in this impromptu, kind of dramatic stroll around town. He doesn’t get up again, though. He just sits there, eyes fixed on a distant point as he lets his hands get cold. The tip of his fingers hurt from the cold winter air that persists up until the very last days of the season. It’s stupid, but he relishes in the sting if brings; for just the briefest of moments, it distracts him from his mental ache but of course it isn’t enough to fully take the subject off his mind.

At least he does manage to think a little straighter while in solitude, when he’s not busy trying to pretend he’s not shattering inside for the sake of the public looking at him with concerned eyes. Now that he’s alone, he’s able not to calm down but to at least think more logically. He thinks Anna might still face some kind of punishment if their brothers find out she’s been helping Castiel lie about Dean, and they will most likely because the youngest of the Novaks have never been too good at standing up against the oldest, but Cas is at least now sure that Lucifer won’t dare lay a hand on her, Michael wouldn’t allow him to go that far. He does, after all, have a soft spot for the youngest and only girl of the family. Perhaps his motives are a little sexist because he sees Anna as something weaker that needs protection, but this one time around his flawed values serve on Cas’ favour. Once he stops being so worried about her, he tries not to think about her at all because all he can think about is the way she turned around and left him when he needed his family to stand up for him. He tries to tell himself that it’s unfair to hold it against her, that this is his own fault; he made the decisions that paved the way of a potentially disastrous path, not her, but he can’t help the poisonous feeling of betrayal tainting the sweet image of his sister, who had always seemed so rebellious and ready to fight back anyone who spoke ill of her brothers.

Cas rests his elbows on his knees and tries to keep it together. He forces himself to swallow down the thick lump in his throat, although it takes a few tries. He thinks of his options, his now terribly uncertain future. He hates uncertainty, it drives him crazy. Cas needs to rethink all his college applications and _fast_. His grades are excellent but his extracurricular activities aren’t impressive at all; he never bothered making too much of an effort there because he’d always been counting on his brother’s money to get him into any school he wished to apply to if his grades consisted mostly on A+. He figures he needs to look for full scholarships, if possible, and get a job immediately, although he feels he’s trained for nothing and has zero experience in anything, not to mention terrible social skills. He wonders how working might affect his grades; he’ll have to make an effort to work his ass off to keep his grades on point, so that will mean less time to hang out with Dean and definitely cutting back in parties. He can take Bobby up on the offer to crash on his house for a while but he can’t imagine himself asking the other man for money, even if it’s just to buy lunch at school.

He gets ready to have that conversation with Bobby, going over it in his head time after time; he’ll offer to pay some kind of rent for living there and he will help around the house as much as possible. He’d feel more comfortable staying at Dean’s -almost at home, really-, but he discards that as an option as soon as he finds himself daydreaming about it; he’s faced his own family and it was a terrible experience, he doesn't even want to think how it’d go with John Winchester. The man is slightly scary.

As he drags his feet back towards the house, he tries to keep his feeling at bay. When that doesn’t work, he tries to store them in the little box they used to sleep in for so many years because he can feel anger tainting everything sweet that he’d learned to love; his life with Dean, his new friends, the feeling of belonging, the feeling of being finally normal, a real person out in the real world. But with a bitter taste in his mouth he starts to regret everything; he should have waited to join society because after all it was just as disappointing as being alone. He should have kept his feelings for Dean bottled up in a safebox until he was in college and away from his brothers, the way he’d always planned it. Now he might not even get to go to college. Castiel runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time and mutters curses quietly as he goes. He should have never trusted Dean’s friends; teenagers, after all, were stupid and treacherous, just as he’d always suspected.

When he gets to Bobby, he makes an awkward pause outside. He asks himself if he should knock or not; he lives here now, apparently. Is he supposed to still knock? Or would Bobby think that’s too cheeky of him, to assume he owns the place because he was invited to stay for a while? Then panic sets in; what if Bobby regrets his decision to take him in later? What if he finds Castiel annoying or simply gets tired of him or misses being alone in the house? Well, alone with Ellen, that is, since she spends an awful lot of time there.

Eventually, he decides to knock. Dean opens the door so fast, Cas can’t help but wonder if he’d been waiting behind the door this entire time. The relief in his boyfriend’s face is endearing and for a tiny second he feels warm by the welcome.

“Finally! I was worried about you! Was about to go out to getcha.” Dean tells him as he pulls him in for a one arm hug. Then, the young man’s pulling him inside. “Anna’s here. Gabe called a couple of times too.”

“W-what?” Indeed, there is his sister in the sofa sharing tea with Sam and Jo, still looking pretty shaken up even though she manages a small smile for him. Castiel hurries towards her and kneels in front of her, cupping her face and quickly looking for any possible injuries. “Anna, are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“I’m fine, Cas,” she assures him. She pulls his hand away from her cheek but doesn’t let go of it as his brother sits on the arm of the sofa. “I… I came to bring you some stuff. I tried to pack as much as I could before Michael and Lucifer were back home. It’s not much, sorry, but at least I got all your books from school,” she explains and points with a thumb over her shoulder to where a small duffle bag and his school backpack were put away against the wall. “Would have brought more clothes but you know they keep the big suitcases in the attic and I didn’t have time to get them, so… yeah,” she shrugs awkwardly, then remembers something and smiles as she elbows his ribs playfully. “I brought dad’s trench coat. _Your_ trench coat, I mean.”

“Is that why you left?” Cas whispers, thinking back in regret of all the things he thought about her earlier in the day. “To get my stuff?”

“Yeah, I- on the way here, Lucifer… he was _livid_ , Cas. He told Michael they should send you away to a boarding school abroad, even if you lost the school year, to make sure you didn’t see Dean anymore, and- and he agreed and… then Lucifer swore to burn all the rest of your stuff, just to spite you. Not to mention he wanted to… you know…” _Beat the crap out of you_ is left unsaid. “Anyway, once I figured you weren’t coming home -which, by the way, was the right choice-, I figured you’d need some clothes and your books.”

Castiel bites the insides of his cheek and nods once, holding back tears. Anna, his fiercely brave younger sister, looks down and squeezes his hand, moving her thumb over his hand once. It’s not like them to be this affectionate with each other… and for a moment he wonders why the hell not because it suits them, it feels nice.

It takes Cas a moment to find his voice. “You shouldn’t have,” he sighs. “They’ll be angry with you, Anna. You should go home.”

“I was just waiting for you to come back, I wanted to see you first. Cas, they can’t do more than ground me, I’ll survive. It’s the least I could do. Oh, and I… I called Gabe. He wants you to call him back.”

Castiel sits back on couch and sighs. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“Are you kidding me?” she raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like you can keep it a secret anyway. Just call him, will you? He’s really worried about you.”

Before Cas has the opportunity to argue, Dean is holding the phone towards him.

“Call him,” he says in a tone that leaves no space for arguments. “He’s called like 5 times already, he’s driving Bobby mad. Come on, man, just call him.”

With a final sigh, Castiel takes the phone and stands up. He knows his brother’s number by heart. He looks down at the phone for a moment, his finger hovering over the first number, and then he looks around to see four pair of eyes looking at him expectantly.

“I… will be right back…”

He feels childish locking himself up in the bathroom but he’s tired of having everyone’s eyes on him, constantly expecting him to do or say something. He takes a deep breath, for courage, and dials his brother’s number. Gabriel picks up right away.

“Hello?”

“It’s-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Castiel! _Finally_!” Gabriel growls from the other side of the line, forcing Cas to hold the phone away from his ear. “I was crazy worried about you! It’s almost like, what?, 7 p.m. over there? What were you thinking running off all day like that?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “I was just taking a walk in the park, I needed to think in peace.”

“Well, think where I know you’re safe!”

“It’s the bloody park, Gabriel, Lucifer’s not gonna get me there.”

“He’s not gonna get you at all. You’re coming home with me.”

“To Los Angeles? No! Are you insane?”

“I am _worried_ , that’s what I am! Anna told me Michael wanted to ship you off to Scotland or something!”

“Well, he isn’t and I’m not leaving school in the middle of the senior year, Gabe. Bobby offered me to stay with him, I’ll be fine.” He’s surprised at how confident he sounds about it for once.

“ _Who?_ ”

“He’s- he’s Dean’s family. Kinda like… an adoptive uncle.”

“You rather stay with Dean’s family than your own brother?” his brother questions, sounding offended.

“I rather finish school, that’s all.”

Gabriel sighs and he’s quiet for a long moment. His younger brother can almost imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Alright, then, I- I’ll come over as soon as I can, I could be flying there tomorrow first thing in the morning, and then we’ll figure something out. We’ll run some numbers and I’ll start sending you an allowance.”

“An _allowance_ ?” Castiel repeats, frowning at his own reflection in the mirror. “What am I, _ten_?”

“You’re a teenager without money, that’s what you are. You’re _my_ responsibility.”

“Gabriel, you’re exaggerating. I am an adult now.”

“Cas, you don’t even know how to pay taxes!”

“I’ll learn! And I’ll get a job and-”

“The hell you are!” his brother interrupts him. “You need to focus on your grades. I may not be able to afford Harvard, but I’ve a pretty sum of money saved up that I can still send you to good schools.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“What do you mean what am I talking about? I raised no slacker, you’re going to college, Cassie. Don’t tell me you changed your mind about becoming a professor.”

“No, I didn’t, but-”

“Then? What’s the problem?”

“I’m not about to let you waste all your savings in me! I’m not taking your money,” Castiel mumbles, embarrassed of himself. In the expand of a couple of hours he’s accidentally become a major problem for a lot of people. He’d always rather loved keeping a low profile, living his life asking as little as possible from anyone and everyone.

“Castiel, it’s just money. This is exactly what one saves money for, in case of an emergency.”

“This isn’t an emergency.”

“Procuring a good future for my baby brother is right up there in my top priorities, Cas,” Gabe replies, deadpan. “My shops are doing just fine, baby bro, don’t you worry about money. Hell, _I_ sure don’t. You feel bad about taking money from me? Fine, when you get your share of the inheritance you can pay me back if you want, or not, I don’t give a rat’s ass, but you’re going to college and I’m paying for it and that’s that.”

Cas inhales sharply and rests his head against the cold mirror. It’s futile, arguing with another Novak. Except Gadreel, maybe; only him and Castiel have somewhat softer personalities. How can he make Gabriel understand that his efforts to help him only make him more miserable, enhancing his feelings of guilt? Now more than ever it’s clear to Cas that he’s always been a privileged boy and very comfortable in that position, living off his brothers to the point he became absolutely dependant on them. He tries to tell himself that’s normal, he’s just 18, but then there’s Dean, absolutely independent and certain about himself and his future. For a brief moment, he’s jealous of him, almost resentful.

“Cas, listen to me, buddy,” his brother’s voice comes from the phone more gentle this time. It’s not a tone Gabe usually uses. “Nothing is gonna ruin your life like being too proud to ask for help. You’ve been through a lot, there’s no shame needing help, alright? I should have been there for you the first time, I should have taken you in before the school year started. Mom and dad… they would have wanted me to. I should have taken responsibility for you and Anna.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Castiel whispers and for a moment he wonders if Gabriel will even be able to hear that.

“Well, it isn’t yours either,” Gabe shoots back. “You’re a good kid. You’re not living off me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Don’t be so hard on yourself, life’s going to be hard enough without you being your own enemy. Now, this is what’s gonna happen. You’re going to stay with Dean’s family, I’m gonna be down there tomorrow and I’m going to leave you money for which you’ll be responsible for so don’t go spending it all in dates with Dean.” Gabe waits for a moment, hoping to hear his brother chuckle, but he doesn’t. “You are going to focus on school, no looking for jobs, you’re gonna make this mama proud acing all your classes and you’re going to get into any college you want. When you’re 21, we’ll figure out some way for you to pay me in installments or something, I don’t want you running out of money as soon as you get it. Okay?”

Castiel nods, causing a tears to run down his cheek. Then he realises Gabriel can’t see him, so he replies with a weak, “okay.”

Gabe waits for him to say something else, but it ends up being an awkward silence between the two of them instead. “You’re going to be okay, Cas.”

“I know,” Castiel lies.

“I’ll see you soon, okay, buddy?”

“Yeah. Thank you. Goodbye, Gabriel.”

He hands up and puts the phone down on the side of the sink. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror, he doesn’t need to to know his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are red. Castiel washes his face with cold water and gives himself a couple of minutes to calm down before he joins the rest in the living room again. Jo and Sam are gone, thankfully, and Anna’s standing close to Dean, talking in whispers by the front door. When she sees him coming in, they stop talking.

“Hey, what did Gabe said?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest and trying to sound casual.

“He asked me to go to Los Angeles with him.”

Dean’s face falls instantly. “And what did you say?” he asks before he can stop himself. For an ugly moment, he’s overpowered by the fear that Castiel’s said yes, that he’s going away and this thing between them is finished. Castiel will have the ultimate means to finally push him away far enough that Dean can never reach him.

“I told him I’d rather finish school here,” Cas replies. Dean lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Cas eyes him curiously for a moment before he focuses on his sister again. “He’s coming over for a couple of days, he’s going to help me… financially. He even offered to pay for college.”

Anna pats his arm, grinning. “That’s great, Cas. See? It’ll all work out. And now you can… you can be yourself. For real.”

 _Whoever that is,_ Cas thinks bitterly but in the outside he smiles lazily.

“How did they find out about us? Do you know?” he asks his sister.

“Someone at church told them. I’m not sure who, I didn’t see. I was talking to my friends after mass and Michael just came and told me we had to go. He looked so angry it was kinda terrifying, you know how he is, so I didn’t ask much. Sorry.”

Cas shakes his head once and buries his hand on his pockets, trying to think who it could have been but there’s a lot of people who go to their church, it could have been anybody. He pictures some of Dean’s friends in their sunday suits, making their way through the crowd towards his brothers, readying themselves to rat him out. His blood boils with anger. He wants to put a face and a name to the imagine and he wants them to pay for the trouble they’ve caused him and his loved ones.

“I do have something else to tell you,” Anna admits with a guilty face. “Your car. They’re gonna get it towed, whenever they find it. It’s at Dean’s, isn’t it?”

 _The car!_ he remembers, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. _Fuck._ _Guess I’m walking to school now._

“Sorry,” Anna mumbles, “thought you should know.”

Cas nods through his anger.

“I’m gonna go now, it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” Anna announces, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“If anything happens, you come right back, okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Cas, I promise.” She leans forwards to plant a kiss on his cheek and then waves a hand at them before leaving the two of them alone.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence, something that Dean thought didn’t happen between them anymore. Somehow, things are different now and they both can feel it. Something’s changed, and maybe not entirely for good. Confused, Dean tries to figure out what it is. Sure, Castiel just had probably the shittiest day of his life but at least he’s safe, he’s got a roof over his head and his college plans are intact it seems. This is when they’re supposed to finally enjoy being able to be together freely, in front of anyone because there are no more secrets to keep but instead their relationship feels more strained than ever.

“Cas?” Dean ventures rather shyly. Knowing they’ve been in very compromising positions with each other before, he feels quite stupid standing there timidly wondering if he should reach out for Castiel’s hand or not. Still, the way Castiel’s been carefully avoiding meeting his gaze since he arrived makes the young Winchester feel more self conscious than the times he’s spent between Castiel’s legs with a dick in his mouth.

When Castiel looks up, he seems to do so rather reluctantly, like he knows he’s got no other choice, no other excuse to keep ignoring Dean’s presence, but he wishes he could. It digs a hole in Dean’s stomach and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that is all too familiar; that’s _rejection_ right there, he can tell, but he doesn’t understand _why._

“I’m fine,” the other assures him out of impulse, to dismiss any questions Dean might ask even before he has time to think about them.

Dean swallows whatever smart-ass, sarcastic reply that’s dangling in the tip of his tongue and nods, licking his lower lip nervously as he thinks. There’s something wrong. With Cas. With them. And it’s scaring him senseless. Here he is, trying to be there for Castiel, as always, and yet he’s being punished for being an accomplice to his demise; if it weren’t for Dean, none of this would have happened, Castiel would have never got himself in trouble. Is that what his boyfriend’s thinking? Because it feels like it to Dean, it feels like he’s being held accountable, pushed away, and he’s got no idea why. It’s unfair and frankly hurtful, and slowly Dean’s patience begins to run out and his temper rises as a consequence. He’d let him go when Cas asked for privacy and he’d waited patiently at home even though everything in him told him to go get his boyfriend and give him a big hug. And now he’s back, his heart and soul are still miles away, buried deep down somewhere inside Cas where Dean just can’t reach him. He feels himself getting stubbornly angry, because if he can’t get through to Castiel, he wants to be the one to walk away instead of allowing the other to reject him, just like everyone else always does.

The silence is deafening and Dean just can’t take it anymore.

“Okay, then. I should take Sammy home,” Dean mumbles, looking for an excuse to leave because he’d rather not be there for real than have Castiel pretend he isn’t. He looks up for a moment, hopeful green eyes searching for a sign in his boyfriend’s face that he wants him to stay, but Cas moves away to where his backpack and duffle bag lay on the floor instead, his perfect poker face frozen in place.

“Yes, it’s getting later. You should go home, Dean.”

Dean clenches his jaw at the easiness with which Castiel dismisses him. It stings, it pulls at something in his heart, it makes him want to cry. “I could come back afterwards,” he offers despite the growing anger in him, because even after all, he wants to be there with Cas and he desperately wishes the other wanted him here too. _I could stay, if you want me to, if you ask me to, if you stop this, whatever this is…_

“Thank you but I’d rather go to bed early. It’s been a long day. We can… we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Finally, their eyes meet from across the room. They both hesitate, wondering how to proceed. Should they kiss goodbye? Probably. It’s what they’d normally do… yet none of them makes a move to break the distance between them. Castiel is too angry and self-absorbed in his own concerns to pretend interest in physical affection and Dean is too proud to admit how much the other’s indifference is hurting him.

 _You asshole,_ Dean thinks bitterly, his eyes boring into Castiel’s, _you’re the one person I was meant to feel loved by, nor rejected._

“Alright,” Dean replies dryly, trying his hardest not to let his own anger overpower him. He reaches for the door, almost leaving right there and then when he remembers Sam’s still in the house. “Sammy! Sam, come on, we’re leaving.”

Dean goes to the kitchen, says goodbye to Ellen and Bobby, and then he’s almost dragging Sam out the door. Every fiber in his being is telling him to turn around and attempt to lock eyes with Cas one more time, attempt to make things right, but he fights his instincts and he closes the door behind him without saying another word to Castiel. It feels like the right thing to do, a way to keep his dignity intact because he’s not about to get down on his knees and bitch and whine and beg his boyfriend to talk to him, but the right thing never felt so wrong before. It leaves him feeling uneasy, the way they left things, and Dean spends hours laying on his bed looking at the insistent mold on the ceiling of his room. He tries to convince himself that it could be worse, they could have had a big fight, they could have yelled at each other, but then another part of his brain argues maybe that would have been more productive, at least they would have talked then, Dean would have known what the hell was going on on his boyfriend's head under that mess of dark hair.

Castiel settles in his new room. The bed’s smaller than the one at the Novak’s, it smells of humidity and it’s crowded with books. It’s slightly gloomy and small. He doesn’t dislike it and he figures he won’t spend too much time there anyway; he doesn't plan to hang around Bobby’s a lot, he’d rather be out of the man’s way and bother him as little as possible so he’ll probably end up staying at the library a lot… but he thinks that in another lifetime, he could have made this his room. He could have belonged to another family, could have been Bobby’s kid perhaps. He could have met Dean under other circumstances. They could have fallen in love and hold hands in the street, and just enjoy each other’s company without fearing any consequences.

But that isn’t his life. This is his life. He’s a guest in this room. He’s an annoyance.

He unpacks his stuff and puts them inside the small three-drawer chest in the corner. Even the little piece of furniture is too big for what little clothes he’s got now. He’s going to have to be more careful with them now, make sure he doesn’t stain them or rip them because he’s got almost none to spare. At the bottom of the duffle bag is his father’s trench-coat. Castiel is very gentle as he holds it in his arms. He puts his arms inside the sleeves and lays on the bed with the thing on. He tries to find some comfort in it, tries to imagine his father speaking to him, telling him he’s right and Michael’s wrong, that he wouldn’t mind Cas being gay. Why he’s still obsessed with the idea of his parents, he’s unsure; he can barely remember them anymore, there’s only frozen images of them in his childhood memories and then things he isn’t sure are real or made up, like the feeling of his mother’s soft hands on his cheek, stroking him gently, or the sound of his father’s voice, telling him a story. Maybe it’s the simplicity of his childhood what he misses, the feeling of being happy, whole, of belonging somewhere, the safety of having two people who love him unconditionally looking after him. Life took that away from him. Life took _everything_ away from him and it keeps greedily taking more and more. He just wants it to stop.

Anger stews in the pit of his stomach all night. He had one good thing with Dean and someone’s ruined it for him. He wants that person, whoever rat him out to his brothers, to pay for it. He could have kept lying for years probably; however messy it could have all become, he wouldn’t have done it to keep Dean at his side. And yet he blames Dean too, even though he knows it’s unfair. Dean, who wanted too much, more than they could have, who insisted he went to parties and sat with his friends. Dean, who doesn’t care that everyone knows about them and is probably happy that they don’t have to hide anymore. Dean is probably glad about all of this, at some level, even if it’s costed Castiel all he had.

He misses dinner and would have skipped breakfast the next day too, except Bobby’s already cooked it and Castiel knows it’d be impolite to decline it. Still, it makes him feel guilty that the old man went out of his way to make him something to eat.

“It’s just toasts and tea, boy,” Bobby dismisses his concerns lazily, but he’s got no idea how uncomfortable he’s making Cas feel.

_I’m an annoyance, I’m an annoyance._

Bobby leaves him a key, says he’ll probably be home later than him but promises to be on time to make dinner for the two of them. It just makes Castiel feel worse, but he nods and shoves the key on his pocket.

It’s cloudy outside. There’s that stillness in the air, that silence due to the lack of wind, that precedes a storm. Castiel can almost smell it as he walks to school, fists tightly closed around the straps of his backpack, heart pumping against his chest in a way that feels uncomfortably strong and yet terribly slow. He hasn’t walked to school in years but he doesn’t have a problem finding his way. He could have asked Dean for a lift the day before but… he just hadn’t been able to find the words. As soon as Dean comes to mind, he moves on quickly to the next thought.

If he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t even try to find Dean as he makes his way to his first class with him. He knows they’ll cross paths in the end, they share classes together on Monday mornings, so meanwhile he keeps his head low and avoids making eye contact with anyone. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he is sure people lower their voices or giggle when he walks by and he can feel the weight of a thousand pair of eyes on his back as he moves away. The attention throws him off, makes him too self conscious and he ends up tensing up and walking weird. He fears he’s going to stumble on his own two feet and fall flat on his face in front of everyone, just out of nerves. He is thankful that he’s always taken a seat on the back of the classroom, so he hides there, burying his nose on a book before the class starts.

But he’s not invisible anymore, oh and how he misses it now.

“Hey, Cas.”

He takes a moment to take a deep breath and lowers his book, finding Hannah standing in front of his desk. She’s trying to keep a neutral expression on her face but he sees right through it.

“Hello, Hannah,” he replies in that robotic monotone he’s used for years.

Hannah squints her eyes. “You okay?”

“You’ve found out what happened at the party and you want to know how I’m feeling. Yes, I’m okay, thank you for your concern.”

She opens her mouth, closes it again right away. The girl shifts in place, visibly uncomfortable, but all the same decides to speak again. “You don’t look okay.”

“I am, really,” he insists, putting on a casual smile on his lips. Hannah doesn’t look convinced at all.

“Right. Well, if you wanna do something later… go somewhere and talk… let me know. Okay?”

Cas nods and waits in silence until she’s retreating towards her seat. _Was it you?_ he wonders for a moment, but quickly decides that no, it couldn’t have been Hannah the one who spoke to his brothers, she doesn’t even seem to know they know about him, or else she would have been more concerned.

Paying attention in class proves to be hard. The professor asks him a question and catches him totally off balance; it’s probably the first time Castiel’s been caught not paying attention and he blushes and mumbles like an idiot, getting the answer wrong. Embarrassment piles up in his gut with the rest of his feelings and soon it starts to be too much of a heavy load.

Dean is late to the class they share together, barely makes it on time, huffing and puffing, before the professor threatens to close the door on his face the next time. He runs to his table and turns around on his seat, pretending to be busy taking his pen and folder from his backpack, but really his eyes are looking for Castiel’s. They look at each other from across the room and for the first time in a long time, it’s nothing but awkward. Dean’s friend, the one sitting next to him, elbows him and leans in to say something in his boyfriend’s ear, and Dean turns back around and whispers something back. Everything is cool, everything is fine for him, and it sends an uncontrollable wave of resentment shooting through Castiel. He feels alone, terribly alone, in his despair. He’d found some comfort before, thinking Dean understood some aspects of his life, but now he’s back in his loneliness.

The bell rings and it’s the lunch break. Castiel puts his book back on his backpack quickly, straightens his shirt with his hands and all but makes a run for the door, trying to avoid Dean. The other is hot on his tail, calling him as he chases after Castiel through the crowded hallway, absolutely ignoring the way people look at them. A hand closes around Castiel's forearm and Dean is pulling him into a corner.

“Will you stop?” he hisses, his tone divided between anger and something close to sadness.

“Oh, hi, Dean.”

Dean scoffs. “Don’t play dumb, you were _running_ away from me. Literally, Cas.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“ _Yes_ , you were. Don’t lie to me.”

People walk by, throwing them curious glances, whispering things to each other. Castiel throws daggers at them with their eyes. _Mind your own business_ , he wants to yell at them but he remains quiet, as usual, his typical weak response to everything.

“Look, I’m sorry if I’m _bothering_ you,” Dean fumes, visibly upset with him, “I just wanted to let you know I know how Michael and Lucifer found out about us.”

Cas’ heart jolts.

“Who was it?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Look, Cas, it’s not what you think, okay? It was a bit of an accident act-”

“Dean, who was it?” he asks again, getting right into Dean’s personally space and not for the reasons his boyfriend would have wanted him to.

Dean stares right into his eyes, surprised by the intensity of his demand, and there’s also obvious hurt in his eyes at being spoken to like that, which Castiel chooses to be blind to.

“What’s happening here, Cas?” he asks, trying not to show how much his heart is aching. “You’re acting like a jerk, this isn’t like you.”

Castiel laughs and takes a step back. “I don’t even know who I am, Dean, so I can’t act the part anymore!” he replies bitterly. He grabs the front of Dean’s shirt and asks on a hoarse voice, “who was it?”

Dean grabs his wrist and pushes his hand away. “It was Fred, okay? He-”

Cas isn’t listening. He sees red as he marches towards the cafeteria, literally pushing past people on the way, gaining a few dirty looks from then, which he can’t even pay attention to. Some students turn on their seats to look at him as he storms into the room, making his way with determination towards the group of tables where Dean friend’s are normally seated. Some of them catch their eye and frown at him, concerned by the expression on his face. They know, he can feel it, they know, they’ve been talking about it, about his family finding out that he’s with Dean, and there is Fred, pacing next to the table, talking to Benny. As soon as Fred sees him, he begins to walk towards Cas.

“Cas, I need to talk to you, I-”

“You son of a bitch!” Castiel roars, his fist colliding with Fred’s cheek with a force that leaves his knuckles pulsing. Fred stumbles backwards and fall into the ground on his ass as the whole room goes suddenly quiet. Wild with rage, he straddles his friend’s lap and starts throwing punches across the face. “You were my friend! You ruined my life!”

A pair of strong arms hook under his armpits and push him away from Fred, who hadn’t even attempted to fight back. Castiel struggles to break free from Dean, but he’s taller and drags Cas away easily. He used to like that strength, it used to turn him on how easily Dean could pin him to the mattress and to with him whatever he wanted. Now, he hates it.

“Let me go! Let me go!” Cas shouts, kicking the ground and throwing his arms up in the air, his eyes still locked in Fred, who is bleeding from his nose in the ground.

“Stop, Cas, it’s not what you think!” Dean tries to reason with him, but Cas just won’t relax. “Calm down, it’s over!”

“Damn right it’s over!” The words pierce through Dean like daggers. He lets the other go instantly, goes as far as to pushing Castiel away from him. The other turns on his heels, jaw clenching as he advances towards Dean. “You’re defending him?” he spats.

When Castiel takes another step forward, Dean closes his hands into fists, readying himself for the punch the other might try to throw, but before anything else can be said or done, the school principal is marching towards them with an severely annoyed expression in her face.

“Winchester! Novak! What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” She takes one look at Fred, now sitting on the floor with his shirt covered in blood as Benny holds tissues against his face, and gasps. “Lafitte, takes him to see the nurse now! And to my office later. You two,” she says, pointing a finger in the direction of Dean and Castiel, “follow me.”

Everyone’s in complete silence as the small group leaves the cafeteria and then conversation breaks out immediately once they’re out the door. Cas closes his eyes for a moment, trying to shut his brain and become oblivious to the sounds that travel through the hallways, haunting him. He rubs his knuckles in his hands and keeps his head down, purposely avoiding Dean’s eyes. He can feel those green eyes on him, begging him to look up and face him, but he doesn’t, he fixes his eyes on his shoes and ignores Dean as much as possible.

The principal opens the door to her an office and gestures towards a pair of chairs.

“Sit,” she orders. The boys obey and take a seat one next to the other though making sure not even their clothes are touching. She places her hands on her hips and shakes her head disapprovingly at the two of them. “What on Earth got into the two of you? I’m very disappointed at you, Dean. Thought you were done getting into stupid fights.”

Dean looks down, biting his tongue to stop himself from making any remarks that might get him in more trouble. His blood is boiling; _of course_ people would assume _he_ got into a fight, when in reality he was trying to stop it.

“I’m going to speak to the nurse, I’ll be right back in 5 minutes. You’d better not move an inch before I come back, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean grunts.

“Well, Novak?” she barks when no reply comes from him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally mutters.

The woman storms out, closing the door of her office behind her and leaving the two of them alone. Dean’s heavy breathing and his nervous foot tapping the floor are the only things that can be heard apart from muffled sounds coming from deep inside the school.

“Did you mean it?” he suddenly snaps, unable to stop himself. He can’t stand the silence, can’t stand not knowing anymore, it’s eating him up. “That it’s over, between us. Did you mean it?”

Castiel doesn’t know what to reply. He wants to say yes right away just to hurt Dean, as revenge, but the part of him that loves the other boy can’t say those words out loud so fast, so easily. He doesn’t _want_ it to be over but what else is there to do if Dean defends those who have wronged him to much?

“I don’t know, will you keep defending Fred?”

“Yes,” Dean replies right away, not a single trace of hesitation in his answer and a defiant hardness in his eyes.

Castiel looks up, face screwed up with anger and uncontrollable tears watering his eyes. “How can you-”

“You didn’t even give him a chance, Cas!”

“He took _my_ chance away!” Cas argues loudly, getting on his feet and towering over Dean, who leans back on his chair, away from him. “He took everything from me! And now I’m going to get expelled or-”

“No, they’re not, relax! They’re just going to call our families and give us a suspension!”

The blood drains from Castiel’s face. Michael’s his emergency contact. He imagines his tall brother walking into the school in his perfectly neat suit, entering the principal’s office and taking him by the shoulder, dragging him home. His home, not Castiel’s, where Lucifer and him can do whatever they want with him.

“I’ve to go,” Cas mutters quickly and then he’s turning on his heels, running out there door, ignoring Dean as he calls after him, his name echoing in the empty hallways.

Cas runs and runs, barely conscious of where he is going, sweat dripping down his face and back. He only stops when he’s finally standing in front of Bobby’s door, panting for air with a hand against the door and the other over his heart, which feels like it might explode. With shaky hands, he digs into his pockets for the key of the house. He’s turns the key, opens the door and comes in, letting the door close behind him with a _bang!_ as he continues to the guest room, his room. He’s not sure what he’s doing, what he wants to do, but he’s getting his clothes out of the drawers he put them on last night and shoving them in his bag again. He’s leaving, Castiel realises. He is leaving the forsaken town, he’s running away from liars and abusers, from pretenders and obnoxious, shallow teenagers. From Dean even, who after all chose to side with his friends instead of him. That had hurt the most, that he couldn’t get over, and it’d be easier to forget him if he didn’t have to look at his face almost every single day. How could he go back to school and face them all again? It had taken him _years_ to master his poker face, to detach himself from everything and everyone, he couldn’t do it again so quickly, from one day to the other. And he’d ran out of the principal’s office, he would get in a hell of a lot of trouble for that too, for sure. He wasn’t about to let that woman throw him back with his brothers, though. No, he had to leave, he _wanted_ to, he never wanted to see any of these people again.

Castiel put his trench coat on, threw his backpack and duffle bag on his shoulders and left, leaving the key Bobby had given him behind.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRIEND FROM EUROPE, TAKE A MOMENT TO READ THIS  
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He didn’t know what to do. It was over between them, that much was clear to Dean. The pain of the abrupt breakup was threatening to overwhelm him and have him on his knees crying at the principal’s office, and yet Dean still wanted to go running after Cas. Every fiber on his being was telling him to chase after his boyfriend and hold him, comfort him, even if the other didn’t want him there anymore, but for some reason he didn’t. Self-preservation, maybe that was what made him stay, because he knew very well that maybe Castiel would get away with this, but if  _ he  _ walked out on the principal like that, there was a real chance he could get seriously suspended or even kicked out of school. He had a history, a reputation, Cas didn't, he was a known good boy from a respectable family.

Dean sits back down, hands shaking, trying fast to come up with an excuse as to why Castiel had left; even after all, he was still trying to protect him, like the fool he was, always going out of his way for people who maybe didn’t deserve it as much.

_ He’s hurting, he didn’t mean it, not any of it, he just needs to know the truth and he’ll come around,  _ Dean tries to convince himself, easily excusing Castiel of all his sins like he always does with anyone who wrongs him.

A million dumb excuses cross his mind but none of them are good enough to fool the principal; he’s usually good at lying, but not when he’s like this, not when everything’s falling apart around him, when he can’t breathe normally and think straight for a moment. His chest feels constricted, his jaw keeps trembling and his biggest victory at the moment is holding back tears.

“What the- Winchester, where’s Novak?” the principal asks as soon as she comes in to find him alone in the office.

“He, hmm…. He had to leave,” he replies lamely.

She puts her hands on her hips again, taking that authoritative stance that he’s seen a million times -he’s had his fair share of visits to her office throughout the years-, and lifts an eyebrow.  _ Are you fucking kidding me,  _ she’d be saying if she were allowed to talk to him like that while she glares down at him. Dean braces himself, knowing she’s about to unload her frustration on him like everyone else always does. He closes his eyes and holds his breath, waiting for it…

But it doesn’t come, she doesn’t yell at him.

Instead, the principal takes a deep breath. “Dean,” she begins, her softer tone making him open his eyes, surprised, “I spoke to your friends… Where’s Novak?

He observes her for a moment, trying to figure out the woman in front of him. She doesn’t look angry with him, for once. There’s something different about the way she’s looking at him and he spots it right away;  _ pity _ , she  _ pities _ him. She looks concerned, honestly worried about him, and he’s so unused to it he can’t help but being suspicious. What the hell did Fred tell her? Did he tell her  _ everything _ ?

“I don’t know. He just… bolted,” he responds in a quiet voice. “He’s going through a hard time at home, okay? Go easy on him, please. He’s… a good kid.”

She walks around her desk to sit in her chair and folds her arms over her chest. She’s looking at him like he’s an actual human being and not a dumb student that needs scolding. “I know. Andrews said he started the fight, that he provoked Novak. I find that hard to believe, he hasn’t started a fight in his entire life and Novak didn't have a single scratch on him. Fred’s nose in the other hand, it's twice its usual size right now. Also, I’m no fool, Winchester. You don’t think the staff hears the rumours when the students are loud enough about them? The entire school’s talking about the two of you.”

Dean sits up straight and blushes, but forces himself not to break eye contact. “If you know the Novaks, then, you can put two and two together. Like I said, Castiel’s having a hard time at home at the moment,” he emphasises the words  _ hard time _ and boldly stares at the principal. If he can get Cas out of trouble, if he for once can use pity in his favour, even if he’s got to swallow his pride in the process, he will.

“Do I need to worry about this, Dean?” she asks, the name slipping out of her lips. It caughts Dean off guard, the sincerity with which she speaks. She’s never let herself seem so…  _ human _ before. “Is your father involved in this too?”

Dean scoffs. “Why does everyone always assume my dad’s involved? No, he’s not.”

“Is he around at all? Haven’t seen him in town in a while...”

The young boy shifts in his seat, averting his eyes, uncomfortable with the way the conversation is going. He knows people notice John’s absence, especially their neighbours, but he prefers it when they don’t say a thing. When they do, the illusion that this is a private family matter that no one else has to know about breaks and it scares the shit out of Dean that someone will say something one day, that some idiot will think they should intervene and then the State would take Sam away from his older brother. He doesn’t mind taking care of Sam, it beats the alternative of being separated or sent to foster homes.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Actually, I do. If I wanted to punish you, I’d need to call your father and he’s not in town.”

“Well, are you? Going to punish me, I mean.”

She shakes her head. “Andrews said you were stopping the fight. I should, however, punish Novak.”

Dean turns his gaze back up and doesn’t even know he’s sitting on the edge of his seat. “Don’t,” he pleads a little too fast. “It won’t happen again, I promise, I’ll keep an eye on him. But please don’t punish him. Just- just let me handle it, alright?”

She closes her eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry, Dean, but I need to call someone. He  _ ran out _ of school. If I don’t report it to his family and something happens to him, it could be bad for the school.”

“It could be bad for  _ you _ , you mean,” he mutters.

“I won’t punish him, but I do have to tell his family he has left the premises.”

Angry at her and at himself for thinking he could get her on his side, Dean leans back on his chair, arms folded over his chest like he's an angry child. “Whatever. Is that it, then? Can I go?”

“Yes, you can go,” she says, and then adds quickly while he stands up and marches towards the door, like she can read his mind, “to  _ class _ , Dean. If you leave school so much as a  _ second _ before the end of class, I’ll have to punish you too. Trust me, there’s so much I’ll let slip. You can go find Novak in your own free time. Now go.  _ To class _ .”

He struggles to make a decision. Everything in him wants to run after Castiel, make sure he’s okay, but the prospect of consequences keeps him on his seat in a class he’s completely ignoring. That, and the fact that he isn’t sure Cas even  _ wants _ to be found, at least not by Dean. What if he skips school to find him, gets punished and then Cas just tells him to go away? What if it’s all for nothing? They broke up, after all. 

_ Fuck, we broke up _ , the realisation dawns on him hard, like a punch in the gut. His hands begin to sweat, the back of his throat itches and fuck, he prays the professor won’t ask him anything because he’s not sure he can keep his voice in check. He coughs a couple of times when he feels like he’s about to sob like a damn drama queen in front of over a dozen people.  _ You’ve just gotta make it through the next few couple of hours,  _ he tells himself. He’s practised this, looking okay when he’s really not, after a million arguments and fights with John, but right now it’s proving to be harder than ever.

Benny finds him in the hallway in between classes. Dean can see him coming and his friend’s all but exuding concern. Benny opens his mouth to speak but Dean shuts him up, raising a hand. “Not now, Benny,” he grunts and moves along because he is trying so hard to keep himself together, he can’t deal with a heart to heart conversation with his friend right now. It’s already bad enough that everyone is looking at him like they are  _ expecting  _ him to break, he doesn’t want to put up a show, he’s never liked to cause scenes.

He has his eyes glued on the wall clock on top of the blackboard for the totality of the next class, the seconds ticking by slower than ever as if they’re taunting him. He swears he can hear the mechanism inside it moving over the voice of his professor. He’s the first one to go when the bell rings and in his rush to leave, he almost forgets he has to wait for his little brother to join him in the car. 

Sam knows something’s wrong the moment he sees Dean inside the car, jaw set and he staring straight out of the window, barely even moving to acknowledge his presence when he climbs into the car.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam ventures cautiously.

He merely shakes his head once and starts the car. Sam knows better than to keep inquiring, but that doesn’t stop him from sending worried glances in his direction. When they’re home, Dean throws his backpack into Sam’s lap.

“Bring that in for me, will you? I’ll be back later.”

“Where are you going?”

“Gotta go find Cas.”

“Is he okay?”

Dean bites his lower lip to stop himself but the words come stumbling down his tongue anyway. “We broke up.”

Sam gasps audibly. “Dean-”

“I’ll be back later.”

And with that, Dean drives away. He goes straight to Bobby’s first. The door’s locked -Bobby’s not home yet, but he knew that- and no one else seems to be inside but just to be sure he knocks and rings the bell a couple of times, thinking maybe Cas is just in there, hiding from him.

“Come on, Cas,” he yells from outside, feeling like an idiot cause there’s a big chance he’s talking to an empty house and there’s this old lady a few houses down the street totally spying on him as she pretends to tend to her roses, “I just want to talk. Open up. Cas? You in there?”

Dean steps away from the door and looks up the window into what he knows should be Castiel’s room. He stands on the tip of his toes -like that’d help- to try and get a better view, see if he can spot his boyfriend - _ ex _ boyfriend hiding away, but there’s no sight of him. 

Next, he tries Bobby’s shop. The old man’s about to scold him for being late for work, but the moment he sees Dean’s face, he shuts the hell up.

“Have you seen Cas?” Dean asks him, trying and failing to sound casual.

“No, why? He ain’t home?”

Dean swallows. “We, huh- there was this fight at school and, hmmm… He took off.”

“As in, skipped school?” Bobby raises an eyebrow incredulously; Castiel doesn’t look like the type of kid who skips school. He doesn’t look like someone who breaks  _ any _ kind of rule.

“Yeah. I’m kinda worried about him,” he admits, but quickly composes his face, faking a casual smile and a shrug, “it’s alright, I’ll find him. Sorry, but I guess I’m not working today.”

“Don’t worry about it, boy. You call me when you find him, alright?”

“Sure, sure.”

Now Dean starts to get worried. The wind begins to pick up as he drives around town looking for Cas, the clouds above him getting darker and darker. He goes to Hannah’s, asks her if she’s seen him. She sounds worried too and offers to go with him. He agrees only because two pair of eyes are better than one distracted driver. Thankfully, Hannah doesn’t ask anything about what happened earlier at school. She probably knows everything already, news travel fast at school and probably everyone saw their fight in the cafeteria anyway, but she’s either not comfortable enough with him to ask anything about it or she’s got enough tact to realise he doesn’t want to talk about it. They drive in tense silence, Hannah looking out the window constantly in search of Castiel, but they don’t find him. They stop at the public library, the waffle place Hannah and Castiel go to sometimes, the park, even go back to Bobby’s in case he’s returned, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

The first drops of rain begin to fall. Dean’s slightly desperate by now, in the edge of panicking. They drive some more until it gets pitch black, dark grey clouds covering all of the sky as far as they can see, thunders playing in the background not too far from them. Dean offers to take her home; it’s way past dinner time and the storm is only getting worse by the minute. It’s supposed to be a real big one, according to the guy in the radio they’re listening to just to have something to hear that isn’t Dean’s heavy breathing and sighs. Still, Hannah insist to stay until they’ve found him.

“We should try his house, Dean,” she suggests. 

“His house? No, he wouldn’t go back there.”

“But what if they found him? What if they dragged him back or something? We should check, just in case.”

Dean imagines it, Lucifer driving by and seeing Cas wandering around town, then dragging him back home forcefully and doing who knows what to him. His stomach twists and turns with worry. He nods in agreement and drives fast towards the Novak’s place. They both look nervous when they get there and share a look - _ are you sure about this? _ \- before they muster the courage to run to the front door, pulling their jackets over their heads as water pours down from the sky. Dean rings the bell and they wait. It’s slightly embarrassing when they both sigh in relief when it’s Anna who opens the door.

“There you are!” she fumes. “Gabriel’s been looking all over for you and Castiel!”

“So he’s not here?”

Dean doesn’t know whether to be relieved or more concerned about it.

“What, he’s not with  _ you _ ?” Anna’s faces changes from irritation to concern. She takes a look behind them into the heavy rain that’s wetting the back of Dean and Hannah’s jeans, probably imagines Cas alone out there in the storm too, and then meets his eyes again. “We thought he was with you. Gabriel’s been waiting at your place for a couple of hours now.”

“No, he’s not with me,” Dean mumbles, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe he went back to your place and Gabe just forgot to call me?” Anna offers. “You should go home, Dean.”

“Anna!” they hear Michael calling from somewhere inside the house.

“Really, you should go,” she adds a little anxiously, almost closing the door in their noses.

They don’t need telling twice, neither of them wants to face Michael, so the couple of friends are turning on their heels again and running back into the car. They drive slowly now, carefully, the windscreen wiper not doing much to clear the view for Dean to drive boldly. Even though they park the car right in front of his house, they still get almost soaking wet running the short distance from the car to the door. They come in to find Gabriel watching TV, the phone in his lap, and Sam doing homework on the coffee table next to him.

The older Novak jumps up and looks expectantly at them, like Cas will probably jump from behind them at any moment now.

“Where the hell’s Cas?” he asks.

“He’s not here?” Dean’s heart drops.

“Would I be asking where he is if he were here?” Gabe snaps.

“Hey, take it easy, pal, I’ve been out there all day looking for him!” Dean growls back.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hannah hurries to stand between them, hands raised to stop them. “Not the moment to argue. Castiel’s missing and it’s the end of the fucking world out there, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

“This is ridiculous. I need to find my brother,” Gabriel mutters and hurries towards the door.

“Where are you going! I’ve checked  _ everywhere _ !” Dean’s hot on his tale, following him to the door. “Gabriel, what if he’s gone or something? He wouldn’t do that, would him?”

Gabriel’s brow furrows in concentration, eyes stare into nothingness for a moment as he thinks, as he  _ remembers  _ something that seemed from another lifetime. “Yes… yes, he would. And I know exactly who can find him.”

It’s cold and almost pitch black inside his parent’s mausoleum. Cas blows warm air into his hands and then buries them under his armpits, chasing his own warmth. The light from lightnings outside come through the beautifully decorated windows on the tomb, if for only a second or two, and cast rather creepy shadows around Castiel. He hadn’t meant to spend the night in there, but the storm broke out while he was saying his goodbyes to his parents and he didn’t consider it wise to wander around the large park that was the town’s cemetery in the middle of a thunderstorm. 

He looks down at his watch; it’s too late, he’s missed his bus to Los Angeles. Castiel kicks the ground, angry at himself for coming here in the first place, putting himself in a terrible situation, and rests his forehead on his knees. He spent what little money he had left in the bus ticket and now he’s missed it. He can’t even run away in peace, he’s gone and messed that up too.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath. 

Alone in the dark like that, it’s hard to keep his thoughts at bay. He starts to imagine himself, returning to Bobby’s the following morning with his tail between his legs, asking the man for forgiveness for leaving like that, without saying a word. He tries to rehearse how he’d ask Bobby for money to go visit his brother, and he feels already sick with himself as he practises begging for money. 

_ I’m such an annoyance, goddamn.  _

He could possibly ask Hannah for money too, promising to give it back at soon as he got to his brother’s. He could even ask Dean, maybe; he’d give it willingly.

_ No, not Dean! _

Cas wouldn’t have the nerve to ask Dean for money. He couldn’t even face him right now, not after everything that went down between them earlier. Whenever he thinks of Dean, something aches inside him, very much physically. He loves him very much still, but that makes his betrayal feel a thousand times worse. If Dean had only stayed in his side, if he hadn’t defended Fred… Why did he? How  _ could  _ he?

With a frustrated sigh, he bangs his head against his knees and tries to focus on his cold hands instead of the thought of Dean Winchester, his ultimate weakness. 

A particularly loud thunder startles him, makes the windows rattle. He looks up just in time to see a long, intricate line of lighting decorating the sky, then looks down fast enough to see the photographs of his parents over their marble coffins. They stare right back at him, like petrified ghosts. In the blink of an eye, darkness engulfs him again. Cas lets his head fall again and his shoulders shake as silent tears run down his cheeks.

“I wish… I wish you were here,” he sobs.

But they aren’t, he reminds himself. He’s alone, all alone, in a cemetery in the middle of the friggin night. It’s the lowest he’s even been and just for a moment, he wishes he were dead too, laying here in peace with his parents. At least then he wouldn’t feel so lonely, he’d always be with his parents, in Heaven or wherever they were.

The heavy door of the mausoleum opens and Castiel looks up in surprise. Two men stand before him and he doesn’t need another lighting to illuminate their faces before he recognises them, but it adds to the dramatic effect of the reunion nonetheless when it happens.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Michael says, releasing a shaking breath as he falls on his knees in front of Cas, who can’t do more than stare in bewilderment as his brother’s handa came to cup his face. The eldest Novak squints his eyes to observe him in the dark and Cas waits, flinching, for something bad to happen, to get slapped or yelled at, most likely, but instead Michael pulls him into a one arm hug. He’s soaking wet and freezing, just like Gabriel. “What are you doing here!? Did you not know about the storm? Why would you run away like that, Castiel?” he scolds him, pulling away just barely. He doesn’t sound angry, though, but as someone who is upset when a child under their responsibility has done something dangerous.

Castiel blinks stupidly a couple of times, lost for words. Does he really need to explain why he’d want to leave this stupid town? And what does Michael care, of all people?

“I’ve looked for you all over, you ass!” Gabe contributes, crouching down next to Michael. “So has Dean! He’s worried out of his mind!”

Cas reacts immediately at the mention of his former boyfriend. He tucks his legs closer towards his chest and rests his chin on his knees, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. The feeling of surprise is quickly replaced by the familiar ache in his heart.

“I doubt that,” he mutters somberly.

The other two Novaks share a confused look.

“Cas, what were you even doing here?”

“I came to say goodbye… to mom and dad. I bought a bus ticket to L.A. but I got stuck here, with the storm.”

“To L.A.?” Gabriel repeats. “I thought we’d agreed you’d stay.”

“I changed my mind… I’m sorry, Gabriel, I should have called first. I’ve caused so much trouble.”

Gabriel sighs and pats his knee. “Stop apologising, it’s okay. I was just worried,” he tells him and Cas can’t remember him ever sounding so gentle before. “But why, Cas? Why do you suddenly want to leave? What about Dean?”

Cas shrugs, averting his eyes to one side. Outside the storm keeps raging on, the wind furiously circling the mausoleum, playing a creepy song along with the thunders.

“You were just going to leave? Without saying goodbye to anybody? Cas, that’s rather cold, baby bro.”

“How did you even know I was here?” Castiel snaps, trying to deflect the subject.

“It’s not the first time you run away,” Michael responds, smiling warmly. 

Cas lifts his gaze and stared at him like he forgot about his presence. His older brother looks unfamiliar like that, Cas has been used to his stoic, intimidating face for far too long, and he observes him with caution, studying him, not knowing what to expect or what to make of his tired voice and soft expression on his face. Michael hasn’t looked so…  _ human _ , mortal, vulnerable, in years.

“I have?”

“You were barely four years old, you probably don’t remember. Aunt Abaddon was in charge of us then, remember?”

Oh, he does remember  _ that. _ If the death of their parents hadn’t been painful enough, being forced to live with their aunt certainly had given them all emotional scars. A shudder runs down Castiel’s spine and it could be the cold night air, but it also could most definitely be the memories he’s got of their cruel aunt, who had taken responsibility for them for a a couple of years, up until Michael had been able to claim custody of his younger siblings.

Abaddon was their mother’s beautiful yet rather evil sister. She jumped from husband to husband, squeezing their riches out of them before she moved on to the next sucker. She didn’t have any kids, obviously hated them, and had no interest in their nephews and niece other than the comfortable money she was receiving for caring for them. And by caring for them, Cas means just paying the minimum bills to keep the house running and making sure Michael and Lucifer had enough food on the fridge to feed their siblings. She had no patience for the youngest of the bunch particularly and constantly raised her voice to them. Castiel cold barely remember the woman ever talking to him instead of yelling. The house became a prison camp overnight; no running, no raising their voices, no toys, no getting anything dirty, no laughing too loud, no TV, no desserts, no fun, no nothing. Balthazar always said it was her who taught Lucifer to be cruel and Gabe lamented how Michael had kept many of her rules after she was gone.

“She yelled at you that day,” Michael continues, pulling Castiel from his thoughts, “so loud I heard her from my room. By the time I came down, you’d bolted out the door. Lucifer and I looked all over town for you. I was so worried, Cas. I found you right here, crying, asking mom and dad to come back.”

The man swallows hard and rubs his hands nervously, something Cas has never seen him do before. He seems to old all of a sudden, skin paper thin and pale in the dark. Gabriel looks at him too, sees for a moment the young, caring brother Michael used to be a long time ago.

The eldest Novak sighs and sits back on his ankles, turning his head around to look at his father’s photograph.

“I tried to protect you, all of you. I did, Cas, please believe that. I did what I had to do to keep the house running. I was just a boy too, when they died. Older, yes, but just a boy, barely out of high school. I worked my ass off at law school so I could get a proper job and take custody of the whole lot of you as fast as possible. I wanted aunt Abaddon out of the house, I wanted her away from you and away from our inheritance. It was so hard after she left, I could barely keep us afloat, you’ve no idea. You were all so young and just- just all over the place. Respect through fear kept you in line, kept you all manageable. I- I didn’t  _ mean _ to turn into her. I just… forgot who I was. I’m not your father, Cas, I’m your brother, and I forgot that. And the funny thing is, I barely knew mom and dad myself, you know? They were always so busy and I was a teenager, I was busy too doing my own things. All I know are the values they taught me and I tried to stick to them, I tried to give you a good life, tried to protect you.”

“By beating us with a Bible?” Gabe retorts quietly, clear resentment cutting through his words.

Michael sets his jaw and looks down.

“I’m not justifying myself-”

“It sounds exactly like that, Michael. Even after Abaddon was gone, you let Lucifer terrorise us. Hell, you all but _joined_ in. And I am sorry if we were a handful, but we were just children too. Ana was a goddamn  _ toddler _ , she didn’t know any better. And Cas- look what you’ve done to him;” the blond fumes, gesturing in Castiel’s direction. “I don’t know what mom and dad would have said had they known they had a gay son, but if they would have given him shit over it, it was  _ your _ job to protect him.”

“ _ Our _ job, you mean,” Michael fights back. “I didn’t see you stepping up when Lucifer beat him up.”

“Yeah, and I regret that, so I’m here now!”

“Well, so am I!”

“Will you stop fighting?” Castiel snaps, tired of looking back and forth between them. Chaos, anywhere he goes it’s chaos, and he’ll be damned if he causes their already fragile family to fall apart, after everything they went through.

Michael lets out an exasperated breath and turns towards him. “Cas, I don’t know what to do here. You can’t come home, Lucifer won’t have it, and it’s his house too.”

“I don’t want to come back anyway.” And it's the truth. Just the thought of going back and living under the same roof as Lucifer gives him anxiety, makes his stomach twist and turn painfully. No, he'd better stay away. He'd rather go back to Bobby's with his tail between his legs than go back to the Novak's house.

“You wanna leave, then? To L.A., with me?” Gabe asks.

Cas nods. His brother looks away, shaking his head in disapproval.

“If you don’t want me to go with you, I’ll stay,” Cas tells him. He feels small and yet so big, like an elephant, too annoying to keep around, always taking up too much space, always in someone’s way. Not even his brothers want him.

“That’s not it,” Gabe mumbles. He sighs and pushes off the floor, offers him a hand up. “Come on, let’s go.”

Taking his hand, Cas pushes off the floor too at the same time Michael stands up. They look at each other for a long moment. Michael hesitates, makes an aborted movement to touch him, but then just offers him his hand.

“I can’t say that I agree with the choices you’ve made, Cas, I just don’t… But if you need anything,” Michael shrugs and smiles; a peace offering, “you can call me.”

Cas looks down at the hand being offered to him. He isn’t sure he wants to take it, it doesn’t feel right to just forgive everything right there and then… and maybe he doesn’t have to, but at least he’s starting to build a bridge between them. He’s being given the choice to part ways with the promise that he won’t be entirely rejected when he returns. It’s an improvement and probably the best deal he’s going to get right now, so he extends his hand and shakes it.

“I don’t even remember you ever hugging me before, you know?” Cas confesses, looking at his brother hard into his eyes. 

A span of pain flashes behind Michael’s eyes. It’s gone as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Gabriel plants a gentle hand of his shoulder and herds him away. “Come on, Cas, let’s go.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blowing your minds with these fast updates, aren't I? I surprise myself.  
> Once again, European friends of mine and other people from other places too, please take a moment to read the notes in the end cause Europeans' freedom in our fandoms might be in danger!!  
> As usual, hope you enjoy it, all feedback/comments/thoughts are appreciated. I think the next chapter's the last one, so, there, that. This story turned out to be longer than I'd expected.

Gabriel drives in silence, which is very much unlike him. Cas steals nervous glances in his direction, wondering if he’s mad at him. He should be, Castiel made their brothers go out in the middle of a storm to look for his stupid, reckless ass. They weren’t in good terms to begin with and then they had to go out together and get all wet and cold to find him.

Castiel can’t remember Gabriel ever being _angry_ with him, though. He’s never raised his voice at their younger siblings, never tried to play the intimidating big brother card, for which Cas is grateful and it’s probably why he’s very popular in the family. Yes, he can be immature, takes jokes too far sometimes and it drives Cas insane that he doesn’t take most things seriously, but he’s there for them, always, with a smile of his face to lighten up the mood after years of living with people who constantly carry clouds over their heads.

Which makes him think of Michael too. He can’t help thinking about what he said over and over again, tries to imagine what his life was like after their parents died. Yes, he was a lot of things and a warm, loving brother wasn’t one of them, but Cas wonders what he’d do if tomorrow he were given 6 younger siblings to take care for and went from living with his parents to living with an awful woman who clearly just was there for their money. He thinks it’s sad that Michael had to give up his youth for them. He loves them, in his own twisted way, gave up so much for them, worked hard to be able to kick their aunt out. However, the hardship of the challenge made him bitter and cold. Being a lawyer didn’t help; he became more hostile, cold, often detached from his feelings because the job required him to be like that to be the best at it and he _had_ to be the best, had to make a good living for his family. He succeeded in his intention of keeping the family afloat, he made good money and provided for his family, things made easier later when Lucifer begun to contribute too and they both got their share of the inheritance… He just lost a part of himself in the way, apparently.

“Do you remember what he was like?” Castiel asks, curiosity getting the best of him. “Before mom and dad died.”

“Michael, you mean?”

Castiel nods.

Gabe sighs and gives it some thought. “Lucifer and Michael, they were both nicer. Lucifer used to be so playful, too. He’d play with me and Baltz a lot. Always cheated, but then again so did we. It was fun.”

“Really?” he lifts an eyebrow, unable to imagine their stone cold brother playing any games with them. He can hardly imagine him as a child, even though he’s seen pictures and all.

“Yeah,” Gabe sighs. “Abaddon really did a number on him, if dad and mom dying hadn’t already killed something in him. He fell in line really fast, he learned her rules and made sure we followed them too. He won her favor like that. I think he was the only one she liked and the only one who helped her make our lives miserable cause it meant she went easier on him afterwards. And Michael, he just… he was gone a lot, busy as fuck with his studies. I remember entire years of him with his nose constantly buried in a book. Law school changed him. Or maybe it was just life, I don’t know, Cas. I could never hate him, not entirely, because I remembered what he used to be like. He used to be good, rightful, really pleasant. He used to take us to the park, do you remember that?”

Cas shakes his head.

“No? The park across from the bank?”

He knows what park his brother means, the big one with the cool playground and the water games. He’s got a feeling like he’s always wanted to go and play there but was never given the chance; there was no one to go with him when he was too young or he was always busy with some after-school activity that was supposed to give him extra skills to help him succeed in life. Michael always made him sign up for any extracurriculars that could be useful, that might make his profile stand up from others, even from a young age.

“We used to go there?”

“Yeah, constantly. Michael had a girlfriend, she lived right across from the park, so he’d pick her up and make out with her while we played.”

Cas snorts. He tries to imagine a younger version of his brother making out in public with some girl, but fails. He rarely ever shows affection, much less in a way that he’d consider to be _vulgar_ , like open-mouthed kisses in public.

“ _Michael?_ With a girlfriend?”

Gabe’s smile falters a little bit. “Yeah, I remember her. Nice girl, very pretty. Balthazar and I used to tease them _constantly_ when they kissed, and he would always threaten not to take us to the park anymore, then you and Gadreel would start crying and tell us to stop,” he chuckles under his breath at the memory, for just a moment. “They broke up not long after mom and dad died though. Michael just didn’t have time for her anymore. So, we stopped going to the park too.”

Cas faces the front again, his own amused smile disappearing. _So he lost a girlfriend too?_ _For us?_ He can’t understand or forgive a lot of things, but for the first time he begins to _pity_ Michael; his brother who tried to be a father to half a dozen kids when he had barely become a young man, who was made cold by the circumstances, who had to give up someone he cared about because he needed to focus on school, for the sake of his family. What would he had been like, Cas wonders, had their parents not died? Would their relationship had been better? Would he still be a caring brother?

He wasn’t. He wasn’t and Castiel didn’t have it in him, at least not right now, to just forgive or forget years of maltreatment.

“Look, Cas, I’m not saying you should forgive him. It’s just… we’ve all failed each other somehow, we’ve all made mistakes,” Gabriel tells him, as if he could read his thoughts. “But now we’re older… maybe we can change, maybe we can improve, and we gotta help each other so… so, yeah, it’s time I help _you_ become a better man. I got comfortable, not being the eldest, I never took responsibility for any of you and it was wrong of me to just leave all the heavy weight for Michael and Lucifer to deal with.”

Gabriel brings the car to a stop. Rain pours down on them and he can barely see anything outside in the dark street, but he recognises his surroundings enough to know where they are; they’re in Dean’s street.

“You can’t just leave, Cas,” Gabe explains when Castiel turns around with a questioning look on his face. “You’ll regret it. The things you didn’t say or the things you wish he’d said, they’ll eat you up in the future. Trust me, I know. I don’t know what he did to make you mad but I can’t believe it was bad enough that he deserves to find out through someone else that you’ve skipped town. He looked all over town for you, for hours. He loves you. You need to say goodbye. If you want to leave, fine, I’m here for you, but I am not going to let you become the type of guy who runs away from their problems… like me. You've got to be better. You were always better than me.”

Cas sets his jaw, eyes stinging, and looks away. He doesn’t want to get out of the car but Gabriel seems serious, even turns the key and puts in inside his pocket, waiting patiently for him to get out of the car. Cas is shaking; he’s stiff and cold, and nervous as fuck. He hadn’t expected this, he thought they’d leave right away.

Swallowing hard, he takes the backpack in his lap and sets it down between his legs. Then, slowly, he unbuckles the seat belt but holds onto it for a little longer, staring out the window into his ex’s neighbourhood. Dean’s house is just three houses down the street from where they’ve parked; he’s going to get soaked again, but the third time that night.

“Come on, Cas. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

With a resigned sigh, he steps out into the rain again. This time, though, he doesn’t run towards his objective. He feels his legs shaking, narrows his eyes as water runs down his face. He wants to run away when he’s in front of Dean’s door but he’s done enough stupid things for one day, he’ll do this one thing, for Gabriel.

He takes a deep breath, swipes the water out of his eyes with the back of his hand and knocks on the door. He can hear loud rock music coming all the way from Dean’s room and for a moment he prays the music will muffle his knock, but seconds later Sam opens the door.

“Cas!” he gasps and drags him in with a single pull. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the trail of water that Castiel leaves behind wherever he goes, his shoes squeaking with every step he takes. A small pool of water forms right away around him. “Where have you been? Dean looked all over for you! Have you seen Gabriel?”

“Yes, Sam, he’s waiting outside, in the car,” he replies with a politely neutral tone. Sam’s got nothing to do with anything that’s happened to him, he reminds himself, and truth be told, he’s going to miss the little guy. “I need to talk to Dean.”

Something in Sam’s eyes lights up. “Yes, yes, of course, you two need to talk!” he says and then he’s again all but dragging him towards Dean’s bedroom. He knocks furiously on the door and Castiel’s got a feeling this isn’t the first time he’s tried to get Dean out of his bedroom tonight. “Dean? Open up! Dean!”

They wait. Nothing. Music keeps blasting on the other side of the door, muffling some other sounds that Castiel can’t put his finger on. Dean’s definitely in there, hiding, which is unusual to say the least.

“Dean, come on!” Sam insists, raising his voice over the music and banging on the door insistently. “I’m not leaving, open _up_!” he yells, knocking and knocking and knocking.

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” Dean growls from inside the room, the door suddenly flying open, “ _WHAT_?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open when he sees Dean. His face is red and his eyes are bloodshot from crying, his face contorted between pain and anger. At the sight, Castiel can’t help but feel something dropping in his stomach and he has to fight the urge to pull Dean into his arms and comfort him. The moment green eyes lock with his, though, Dean’s expression softens. He quite visibly _melts_ , desinflates.

“Cas,” he breathes out shakily.

Sam quietly and very slowly backs away with the grace of a ninja, leaving them alone.

Dean looks at him up and down quickly and then a hand is coming up to cup his face. Castiel holds his breath, looking at it while it travels in slow motion towards him but Dean seems to think better of it and retreats in the last minute. Cas doesn’t know whether he regrets it or not, whether he longs to be touched or is rather glad he won’t; it’d only make things harder, he’s never been good at saying no to Dean.

“My brother thought I should come and tell you I’m leaving,” Cas informs him, almost stumbling in his words as he speaks as fast as possible, wanting to just get this over with. “I’m going back to L.A. with him.”

“W-what?”

The look of utter horror in Dean’s face gets to be too much for Cas and he looks away, down at his shoes, before the sad-puppy-like expression in the other’s face makes him change hsi mind.

“Yes. There’s nothing for me here anymore. Goodbye, Dean.”

He means to turn around and leave for good, and it feels _awful_ , it feels like going against the forces of gravity as he steps away from Dean. The other is hot on his tail, snatching his hand and pulling him back towards him.

“Wait! Cas, wait, please!” Dean begs. It’s heartbreaking, almost, he sounds so broken, Cas has never heard him beg before. “You’re not even going to give me a chance to explain myself?”

“Explain _what_ , exactly?” Castiel snaps, pulling his hand away from Dean’s grip. “Explain why you took the side of the person who almost ruined my life?”

“It’s not like that, I swear! If you would just listen, Cas,” Dean pleads agitatedly. “If you ever loved me-”

“ _Don’t_ !” Cas roars, fisting the front of Dean’s shirt and pushing him backwards towards the wall. “Don’t! I love you more than _anything_ and you turned your back on me!”

“I haven’t, Cas. Please, just listen, okay? And then you can go, if you want to, I won’t stop you. But you need to hear this, please.”

Dean’s hands close around Cas’ wrists. They’re soft there, he’s not fighting Cas, just holding him in place. His green eyes do more silent begging and they’re still wet from crying, who knows for how long. Cas can’t help the side of him that wants to kiss them away.

Slowly, he uncurls in fingers and lets Dean go, but doesn’t step away.

“Alright. Say what you need to say and then I’m out.”

Dean nods. “Thank you. So, it was Fred’s dad who spoke with your brother, actually. Now, you don’t know them like I do, they’re good people, Cas. They didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Cas scoffs. “They should have minded their own damn business.”

“Yeah, probably,” Dean agrees, “but you should know how things went down, you should know what kind of people they are.”

* * *

Mr Andrews wakes up early on Sunday morning. He likes to read the paper before church, likes the quiet of the house before his children are up and running. He got a good night’s sleep, even though Fred arrived quite late again and stumbled his way up the wooden stairs rather loudly. He lets it slip, he doesn’t mind his son going out to parties and drinking while his grades remain in good shape and he doesn’t drive drunk. He’s young, after all, soon going out to college. The old man knows all the stress his son’s about to face so he lets him party while he still can. He too was young once, after all, and he knows this is just what kids do.

His wife, though, likes to punish her son for drinking too much. She always makes heavy pancakes to test him, to see if he drank too much. If Fred rejects them, then he’s hangover and he gets an earful from his mother.

That particular morning, their son lets out a groan when he sees the pancakes but digs in anyway; he’s probably semi-hangover, not full on _I-will-vomit-these-as-soon-as-I-finish-them-_ hangover. Going to the early morning mass should be enough punishment, he must have slept only a couple of hours at best.

“So, how was it last night?” his wife asks, lifting an eyebrow knowingly as she watches Fred chew on his pancakes. He loves how feisty she is.

Fred shrugs, makes a face. “It was fine, until Zack went and acted like the dickhead he is again.”

“Language,” Mr Andrews warms him lazily as he listens.

They’ve got a good relationship with their son, he didn’t become secretive and hard to deal with like a lot of teenagers do. Fred’s an open book, conversation flows easily between them. Even their sex talk wasn’t that bad when the time came to teach him how to protect himself and treat girls with respect.

“What did he do this time?” his wife asks, rolling her eyes.

She doesn't like Zachariah, that much is clear. To be honest, he doesn’t either. Maybe it’s wrong of them to dislike a teenager they barely know, but they went to school with the kid’s parents and they were assholes too, so no wonder their kid grew up to be just as vile as they were known to be. The Andrews had had personal issues with that family back in the day and resented them ever since then.

“We were at Mark’s, right? And we’re discussing the football season -the boys are saying some university coaches are coming in to see us play cause we’ve been playing really well lately-”

“Really?” Fred’s mom’s eyes go wide and she beams, seating in the edge of her seat.

“Yeah, but focus, mum, not the point right now,” Fred scolds her, shaking his head. His dad can’t help but chuckle. “So, we’re in the kitchen talking, drinking-”

“Why do you _always_ have to drink, son?” she sighs.

“Mom, are you gonna keep interrupting me or what?”

“You always make your stories too long, son,” his father teases him, “your mom loses concentration fast.”

“Hey!” his wife narrows her eyes at him.

Both men chuckle.

“So, anyway,” Fred clears his throat, plays with the pancakes, moving them around with his fork, “Castiel was there.”

“The Novak kid you’ve been hanging out with, right?” his mom asks. Fred just gives her a _mom, are you serious?_ look at the new interruption. “I like him, he’s always been a polite boy.”

“He’s cool, yes. A bit shy and weird, but he’s funny. So we were talking with the guys and I don’t remember how it came up but Zachariah was just been a dick to him and he basically starting pushing Cas until he, hmm… well, he outed Cas in front of everyone.”

Dead silence falls over the table. The flashbacks are inevitable and they flood Mr Andrew’s mind instantly. Of course Zachariah would grow up to be a homophobe, just like their parents. Fred’s uncle, Mr Andrew’s brother, had suffered a lot in his youth too, bullied by a group led by Zack’s father until he decided to move away when he became afraid they’d kill him or something. He dropped out, packed his bags and left, which had completely broken their family. Their mother had cried for days. He managed to lead a somewhat decent life, though it took him years if not decades to be able to live in peace with who he was in a society that didn’t accept men like him.

And all because of one asshole.

Now his son was following family tradition, apparently.

“And what did you do?” he asks his son with urgency. He imagines Castiel, young and shy and awkward, standing alone surrounded by a group of larger boys his age, being bullied, and if he suddenly has the face of his brother, it’s a coincidence.

“Well, I tried to stop him, me and Benny, but he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

He doesn’t mind the language this time.

His mom’s expression turns into a sad one. “Poor kid. How did he take it?”

“Dean came and beat the shit out of him,” Fred smiles proudly of his friend. His father shouldn’t be happy to hear that, shouldn’t wish it’d been his son who had picked up a fight, but he can’t help himself. “Turns out, they’re dating.”

Mrs Andrew gasps audibly, utterly shocked. “Dean’s gay too?” she whispers, as if the neighbours could hear them gossiping.

Fred shrugs. “I guess, I don’t know. Bi, maybe? He seemed pretty comfortable with the ladies to me.”

Another silence settles between them. Fred looks at his father, who just won’t stop staring at him, jaw set while he holds his breath.

“You okay, dad?” he asks cautiously.

“And, hmm, what do you think? About them, what do you think?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. “You asking me if I _mind_? Dad, you know I don’t care about that sort of stuff. If anything, it’s less dudes to compete with for the girls.”

Mrs Andrews smacks him softly in the back of the head and Fred snorts while his father shakes his head reprovingly at him.

Not an hour later, they’re sitting down on a pew at church, readying themselves for the pastor’s sermon. Mr Andrews feels particularly conflicted as he takes his seat. He knows his brother hates the church, used to get mad at him for still going every Sunday. They are not accepting of people like his brother, he knows that, but he insists on going because he wants to believe that someday they’ll change, that little by little they’re going to get better. He wants to be there to teach people to love everyone, because it’s not their job to judge but God’s and nobody knows for real what is wrong or right until each and every one of them faces judgement when they die. He’d rather be judged for having loved too much than too little. And, anyway, if he stops going, then they win and no improvement is ever done. If he continues to go, then he gets a say on the subject, he gets to make his church and congregation a little better.

From the corner of his eye, he can see the Novaks entering and walking down the aisle to take their seats almost at the front. It’s just the two eldest brothers and their younger sister today, no sight of Castiel. Mr Andrews can’t help but worry for the kid and wonders if he’s okay, if he’s hiding somewhere in fear like his brother had all those years ago. Things have improved considerably for the LGBTQ community since he was young, but there are still many challenges they have to face even these days, a lot of senseless hate and judgement.

Feeling some spark igniting in his chest, Mr Andrews makes a mental note to go up to the Novaks and say something to them after the service is done.

Fred all but runs out of the doors when the sermon is done to find his friends - _don’t look so eager, boy!_ he thinks- and Mrs and Mr Andrews get up and greet their friends. He sees Lucifer and Michael Novak talking amongst other men of their age and he decides to make their way to them. He excuses himself from the conversation and zig zags between the pews and the people towards them.

“Excuse, Mr Novak,” he calls in general and both brothers turn around, “you’re Castiel’s brothers, correct?”

Michael nods. Lucifer merely looks at him, looking politely bored.

“Yes. Mr… Andrews, is it?” Michael, in all honesty, guesses correctly.

The man nods. “I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation. I just thought I’d come over and extend my support to your family,” he tells them with a friendly smile and a tiny vow of his head.

Lucifer frowns. “Excuse me?”

“Well, my boy Fred told me what a rough time Castiel had last night and, poor kid, can’t believe those sorts of things still happen these days, am I right? To be outed like that in front of everyone’s just not right. My boy tried to stop Zachariah but he couldn’t. God bless that Winchester boy for standing up to him, though.”

The brothers look at each other for a long moment. They seem to be talking to each other, no words needed. Lucifer’s face changes slowly, his slightly mocking, bored expression turning white and murderous. Michael turns around, slowly, narrowing his eyes at the man before him.

“The Winchester boy, huh?” he repeats. “ _Dean_ Winchester, you mean?”

A shiver runs down Mr Andrew’s spine, the kind that warns you something’s wrong, but how does he take what he’s said, which has clearly upset them, back? Did they _not know_ about Castiel? _Oh, God, what have I done-_

“Y-yes. Good friend of my boy,” he stammers dumbly. He’s older than the two of them, shouldn’t be intimidated by them, but the way they’re looking at him just doesn’t feel right. “Good kid, that one.”

“The one with the father that’s always gone and drives around on that dreadful, noisy car?” Michael lifts an eyebrow defiantly, clearly not agreeing with Mr Andrews in his judgement. The man swallows and nods, what else can he do?

Fred comes along then, all lazy smiles and tired face, relaxed as usual. “Hey, dad, can I-”

“Is this your son?” Lucifer cuts through. Fred turns around to glare at him.

“Yeah,” he responds for his father.

“Do you happen to know where Dean Winchester lives?”

“Well, yeah. Why, you looking for him?”

The brothers nod.

“It’s Sunday, so he should be at Bobby’s,” he explains nonchalantly before his father can stop him; if there’s one sometimes inconvenient characteristic his son possesses is that he’s so good, so friendly, that he often misses when other people _aren’t_ , he always judges people’s characters too late. He should know right now, for example, that the Novaks don’t have good intentions right now. “He lives by the Miller’s bakery, you know which one I’m talking about?”

Exhaling sharply, Michael nods once

“Excuse us, we’ve got to go,” he growls through gritted teeth.

* * *

“It was all sort of an accident, Cas,” Dean tells him in a soft voice. “You’re right, they should have minded their own business, but it was an honest mistake. When they realised what they’d done, they felt terrible. Fred didn’t know what to do, man, what to tell you, he was shaking when he told me. He isn’t even mad at you for beating the crap out of him, he thinks he deserves it, that’s the kind of guy he is. I know you’re angry and I know they messed up, but trust me, they’re gonna regret this the rest of their _lives_.”

Castiel swallows through the thick lump in his throat.

“Well, so will I,” he manages to choke out. There are tears in his eyes, for some reason.

Dean looks at him expectantly. His hands shake with the urge to reach out and touch Castiel. They’re standing in silence in the hallway, rock still blasting out from Dean’s room, each of them leaning against opposites walls. Cas feels glued to the ground, lost in thoughts.

“Does this change anything?” Dean asks so quietly that Cas barely hears him. His eyes are watery and red again. “Between us, does this change anything?”

Cas shrugs, unsure. _Does it?_ he wonders. There’s just too much he needs to think about.

“Cas, I didn’t side _against_ you and if you feel that's the case, then I'm sorry. I- I just don’t have it in me to judge them and hate them, they’ve done so much for me. They’re good people who made a mistake. God knows I have, so many times. And you’re not perfect either, you know? You keep pushing me away when I want to be there for you-” Dean bites his lip, trying to stop himself, afraid that he’s just going to make things worse, but the way Castiel had behaved the past days still hurts and he needs to say something about it because he always lets everyone walk all over him and Cas wasn’t supposed to be like that. “You’re angry when I don’t support you blindly and yet you push me away when I do, and you know you're doing it and it  _hurts_ , Cas. But it’s okay, we can work on that, I  _want_ to work on that, I want to be with you. We can both learn how to be better for each other if you stay, if you give me another chance… Cas? Cas, please, say something.”

He can’t talk, not with that burn in the back of his throat. He can’t think straight, he just wants to scream and kick something and cry and _then_ and only _then_ , _maybe_ , talk.

Castiel clears his throat, avoiding Dean’s eyes like his life depends of it because if he sees tears in them he’s going to cave before he even has a chance to think if he _wants_ to cave in the first place. It's not fair, it's frustrating the effect Dean's got in him. His body longs to break the distance between them, his heart screams at him to let go of his anger because he's hurt Dean too and what's the point in holding a grudge if the other's explained and apologised?

“I- I think I should go, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FRIEND FROM EUROPE, TAKE A MOMENT TO READ THIS  
> Your content freedom in the internet is at risk!:  
> If you’re European, in a couple of weeks you will be denied any and all access to fandom contents on Tumblr and everywhere else on the internet. Here’s why.  
> On June, 20th the JURI of European Parliament approved of the articles 11 and 13 of the new Copyright Law. These articles are also known as the “Link Tax” and the “Censorship Machines” articles. Please do research to get more information on the subject.  
> Here you can find more news and all the details to contact your MEP:  
> https://saveyourinternet.eu  
> Also, sign and share this petition:  
> https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-stop-the-censorship-machinery-save-the-internet?recruiter=50668942&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial  
> Tell your friends about it and spread the word! I am from Latin America but don't want my dear European fellow fandom friends gone.


	26. Chapter 26

Neither Dean Winchester or Castiel Novak are seen at school the following morning. Benny drives Sam to school in silence. He doesn’t need to ask the little Winchester how his brother’s doing, he figures he must be feeling quite depressed after his breakup with Cas. He hadn’t said much when he called in the morning to ask Benny if he could drive Sam to school, but he sounded wrecked enough for Benny to figure out that he still hadn’t made up with Castiel. He worries about his friend but figures he’d better give him the day to deal with his feelings before he tries to talk to him, because Dean can be all sorts of stupid and hurtful when he’s aching bad enough that the empathetic part of his brain shuts down. He needs time to wrap his head around the situation first, before someone tries to comfort him and help him out of the misery hole he likes to crawl into.

Today’s not the day to do that though. Benny focuses on Fred instead, whose nose is still swollen and has his face decorated with a rainbow of bruises, courtesy of Castiel. He sits all gloomy and quiet at the head of the table during lunch, pushing around his beans with his fork, sighing deeply from time to time. He isn’t mad at Castiel, he confides in Benny, he’s just sorry he didn't get a chance to explain and to apologise. Fred, who is usually known to be the embodiment of dumb kindness, kind of like a puppy, has never screwed someone over like he has Cas and just doesn’t know how to deal with the guilt.

“It was an honest mistake, brother,” Benny tries to comfort him, patting his shoulder in support.

“My dad feels awful too, he just can’t believe what happened. Will you tell him, Benny, if you see him, that my dad offered to take him in if he needs a place to stay?” Fred asks him urgently, eyes wide and a little teary. “We really do feel awful about the whole thing,” he swears, as if he needs to convince Benny that he’s telling the truth and then maybe Castiel will believe it too. There’s no need, Benny knows he’d meant no harm to Cas.

Benny nods. “Sure, I will.”

But he doesn’t see Castiel all day, he isn’t in any of his classes. During the football training, they don’t see him in the running tracks either as they usually would. Dean’s a no-show too and the coach’s starting to get pissed at Dean’s lack of commitment, will probably bench him if he continues to miss practise. Like Dean cares at this point…

He does his best throughout the day to contain the rumours. People just love to talk. Well, they aren’t  _ entirely _ wrong, either, with what they’re murmuring about; they talk of a forbidden love (how dramatic, but kind of true, he figures) between Castiel and Dean, and everyone tries to guess how long it’s been going on, how serious their relationship was. A lot of people know Dean sleeps around a lot, so they don’t seem surprised that he’s gone and messed up yet another relationship after all, but the Castiel part is the real big surprise, the juicy part. Now all the girls that have ever hooked up with him are rushing over to Benny, to his horror, and asking him if Dean’s gay. They seem to be horrified about the possibility, really worried that maybe they did something wrong and turned him gay, as if disappointing sex or make-up sessions could make someone go for dick instead. He starts wishing he’d skipped school too, his patience growing thin with every stupid comment he’s forced to listen to. When he hears girls lamenting about their breakup because, “I wish I’d seen them making out, they’re both so hot, could you imagine that?”, he wrinkles his nose and hurries away.

It’s a big surprise when not Dean but Castiel shows up to school on Wednesday. When he walks into the first class that morning, people go silent for a moment, all eyes on him. He blushes, hugging his books for comfort, and makes his way to the back of the room with his head down. He knows people are talking about him, though he’s got no idea what exactly they’re saying about him. He expects to receive some degree of hate from the students because he punched Fred yesterday, a very likeable guy, and he also yelled at Dean, another of the friendly jocks, and broke up with him in front of the entire school. Yeah, not exactly the best way to make a good impression on people, going against two very popular guys. Then there’s the thing about everyone finding out he’s gay; sure, the youth are more progressive about these sorts of things these days, but he doubts Zachariah is the  _ only _ homophobe at school, so he is definitely a target now.

Castiel tries to keep a low profile throughout the morning and mind his own business. He considers eating alone in the bathroom during lunch but, really, he’s got to preserve  _ some _ of his dignity so he forces himself to man up and join the rest of the school at the cafeteria. He picks the first free table he sees and unpacks his lunch, purposely avoiding looking in the direction of the table where Dean’s friends usually sit in. He knows Dean’s not at school, he’s missed the class they had together, but his friends are and he doesn’t want to provoke them again, so he keeps his head down and eats in silence.

Just a minute or two after he sat down, Hannah and Cassie are sitting down on his table, opposite from him. He watches them carefully, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and waits for them to say something, to get yelled at, to be told that he’s awful, that what he did was wrong, that they want nothing to do with him anymore…

But instead Cassie pushes her plastic container with potato salad towards him and gives him a small smile. Cas looks down at it; he loves Cassie’s mom’s potato salad.

“Thank you,” he mutters as he lands his fork into a little potato cube and shoves it in his mouth.

“No worries,” she shrugs lazily.

In response, he brings his chicken to the middle of the table and they start eating in a silence that is not entirely awkward, yet undoubtedly loaded with some sort of tension. They want to ask questions, he can tell, but they probably aren’t sure whether they should or not.  _ Are they afraid I’ll yell at them too?, _ he wonders. He doesn’t like that thought, doesn’t like the idea of people being intimidated by him like he is of his brothers. He doesn’t want to be like them.

“So, hmm, where are you staying now?” Hannah asks him. She doesn’t sound curious in a way that would make him uncomfortable, but instead it just seems an attempt to start up conversation.

“With Bobby. After, hmm, you know, the other day, I apologised for leaving like I did and he just…” he shrugs for a moment, thinking of the old man and how easily he took him back in, like no harm had been done, like Cas hadn’t behaved like a child. He let Cas have a day to settle down and put his thoughts in order, and today made him lunch to take to school. He drove Cas to school, wished him a good day, said he’d pick him up later. It was strangely domestic and easy, something he hadn’t expected at all, and it had felt nice. “Yeah, I’m staying with Bobby,” he concludes, the tiniest of smiles pulling at the corner of his lips.

Hannah nods. Cassie looks back and forth between them, looking a little confused but doesn’t ask anything, for which Castiel is grateful; it’s his business, after all, the whole drama he put his family and friends through on Monday, and he doesn’t want more people than necessary to know about the events of the past days.

“I see…”

“Crazy weekend, huh?” Cassie mumbles and offers him another smile.

Castiel huffs. “Yes, definitely.”

He’s about to say something else but behind Cassie he can see Benny and Fred heading in their direction. They’re looking and walking straight towards them and never had it crossed Castiel’s mind before how easily those two could beat the shit out of him if they put their minds to it. However, now that he’s offended one of them and the best friend of the other, it does. He swallows slowly through a thick lump in his throat and holds his breath without realising it as they come to a stop in front of them. For a moment he resolves not to put up a fight if they try anything because he deserves it, Fred didn’t put up a fight against him when he punched him, so it would be the right thing to do. They don’t seem to have the intention to even the score, though; Fred, despite having his face decorated with bruises, looks as harmless as ever, even a little sad even, while Benny, standing tall behind him, observes Cas with the same caution as he looks at him. They’re both trying to read the other, to predict how they’re going to react.

Fred takes a deep breath and forces himself to look up at Cas despite his shame. 

“Castiel, I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but I just wanted to come over and apologise to you. My dad’s real sorry too,” he says low enough that only the people in the table can hear. Curious eyes look their way and surely people are straining themselves trying to overhear their conversation too. Fred looks at Cassie and Hannah for a moment, then back at Cas. “You know, for the whole thing on Sunday. My parents asked me to tell you that they want you to stay with us if you… if you have problems at home. We’d love to have you.”

Cas looks down for a moment, his hands curled into fists over his thighs. He doesn’t deserve that much kindness or at least he doesn’t  _ think _ he does. He hadn’t been expecting it, to be forgiven so easily. He also hadn’t expected to find it in himself to also forgive so soon, but he’d slept on it and realised being angry all the time, holding grudges, was exhausting and very lonely.

He takes a deep breath, telling himself that it isn’t the time or place to fall back into his self-hate patterns. He is being offered something good and that doesn’t happen often for him, so for once, he takes it.

“I’m sorry too,” he replies, looking up to meet Fred’s eyes. “I’m sorry I punched you. I should have let you explain first.”

Fred smiles, as easily as ever, and shrugs. “‘s all right, I get it.”

“No, it’s not-”

But his friend raises a hand to shut him up as he moves to sit next to him. He steals Castiel’s fork and starts eating his chicken as if it’s any other day of the week and Monday never even happened. Benny sits down next to Hannah and smiles at him; no hard feelings there either.

“But I-”

“Really, Cas, it’s okay. You know, you actually got me a date. Jessie felt real sorry for me and she asked me out yesterday,” Fred smirks. And just like that, they’re back to normal.

“Oh,  _ God _ ,” Cassie scowls him yet she’s unable to hold back laughter, “you’re terrible, profiting from this situation!”

Fred chuckles and shrugs. “What? I needed something to cheer me up and I wasn’t gonna say  _ no _ , that’d be rude!”

Hannah bites her lip to contain laughter and shakes her head in disapproval. Castiel wants to laugh too, but he’s still half expecting something to go wrong, for someone to yell at him. He looks at Benny, but he is looking down at the potato salad, grabbing a piece between his fingers and chewing with a small smile on his lips. When he meets his gaze, Benny nods at him reassuringly, almost as if he knew exactly what Cas was thinking. A hint of optimism whispers in the back of Castiel’s mind that maybe he can, maybe Benny is his friend now too and not just Dean’s. He knows Castiel and he accepts him just the way he is. The thought comforts him, gives him hope.

Conversation flows easily between friends and, to his surprise, that includes Cas once more. He doesn’t talk much though, just enjoys watching them discuss Fred’s love life, Cassie and Benny teasing him endlessly. By instinct, his brain resists to accept this small joy. It tells him that it won’t last, that happiness doesn’t come easy and freely to him, but Cas shuts down that part of his mind that is negative to preserve itself. He takes a moment to be grateful instead, and to let himself feel happy. Good friends, he learns that day, aren’t that easy to lose.

When it’s time to go back to class, Benny follows Cas out of the cafeteria even though they aren’t together in the next class. He doesn’t need to ask Benny what he wants to talk about as they walk next to each other through the hallways. They come to a stop in front of Castiel’s classroom. Benny looks around, watching the students come and go until the number of them in the corridors becomes lower and lower.

Benny leans closer and speaks quietly, so no one else can listen. “It’s none of my business and I’ll be your friend no matter what you decide, but Dean loves you and you make him happy, and I care about him, so… so if you can find it in you to forgive him too…” the jock takes a deep breath and smiles tentatively at him. “Nothing, it’d just be great.”

Castiel sighs. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. He’d been nervous but had also been looking forwards to seeing Dean at school. His stomach turns thinking of the things he said to his boyfriend, the way he yelled at him in front of everyone and how he literally ran out of him. How much trouble did he put Dean if when he left the principal’s office? Was Dean suspended? They hadn’t suspended Castiel, not after Michael came in and talked to the principal in his favor, so they shouldn’t have punished Dean either. The worst is how he left things the last time they saw each other. He was so cold, so distant, when Dean offered nothing to him but forgiveness and love. 

Benny sorts of laugh at his sad puppy face and pats him in the shoulder. The force of it makes Cas stumble backwards. He looks up, surprised to see his friend smiling.

“What?”

“You’re nuts if you think he won’t take you back,” he tells Cas.

“I don’t deserve it. The way I treated him-”

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright? Go and see him after school, I’ll make sure Sammy’s a little late so you two can talk. See you around.”

After school, Bobby waits for him outside to take him home. When Cas asks him to drop him off at Dean’s, he asks no questions, just nods a response and drives in silence. Castiel is thankful for it because he is nervous, feelings his lunch going in circles in his stomach. Dean can either accept his apologies or finally be over his shit and tell him to fuck off. Either way, he’s got to know, he’s got to try…

He finds himself standing in front of the door, his heart beating at a freakishly high rate. He wants to vomit in his shoes and run away, but he takes a deep breath and knocks on the door instead. He’s thought about what he wants to say for a couple of hours, during the few last classes and the ride here, but when the door opens and Dean comes into sight, his mind goes blank.

Dean looks terrible, with dark bags under his eyes and hair pointing out in all directions. He looks tired and miserable, and even from a distance kind of stinks of alcohol, which is concerning because it’s the afternoon after all. He looks at Cas for a long moment, frowning with confusion. Cas isn’t able to say anything as Dean rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, as if he didn’t believe his eyes, and then blinks at him a couple of times.

“Wha- what are you doing here?” he asks, hoarse voice and alcohol in his breath. 

Castiel steals a quick glance into the house, over Dean’s shoulder, and sees the bottles of beer in the coffee table. He makes a quick mental note to tell Dean to lay off drinking for a while if they get back together.

Cas swallows hard as he goes through the speech he practises, but the words gets stuck on the tip of his tongue. 

_ I’m sorry,  _ he thinks desperately.  _ I don’t know how to tell you but I am so sorry. I’m sorry I am awful at communicating how I feel, I’ve spent so much of my life in silence that I don’t know how to talk to you like a normal person. I’m sorry I don’t know how to ask for or accept help, I’m sorry I push you away. I’m sorry about how I acted, I’m sorry I yelled at you and hurt your feelings. I need time, I need help. I want to be better because you deserve better and you make me better too. I like you so much. I promise I’ll never do this to you again, I promise I’ll never run out on you like that. I promise to stay, for as long as you’ll have me, if you forgive me, because I love you, I love you so much _ .

But Cas is nowhere near being capable of sharing his thoughts so openly so soon, so instead, very dumbly, he stammers, “it’s, hmm, it’s Wednesday. And… and we study on Wednesdays. If you still want… me… to come over… on Wednesdays…”

For a short and yet awfully long moment, Cas fears Dean will actually tell him to fuck off -and with reason. Dean inhales sharply and stares at him motionless, hand on the door. But slowly, his face transforms. He looks old and tired, but he visibly deflates. His expression softens and his jaw trembles a little as he smiles, eyes glistening. Finally, he takes a step back and opens the door further. Moving slowly, like someone who doesn’t want to scare a shy animal, Castiel walks in. He goes straight towards the couch they've spent countless hours on together and sits down. Dean, incredulous, watches him from the door for a whole minute before he disappears to his room. A moment after, he returns with his backpack and sits next to Cas on the couch. They look at each other. Castiel takes his notes out of his backpack and hands them to Dean. Dean takes them, hands shaking, and he starts going through them, sniffling once or twice. They don’t speak, not right away, but soon enough they find themselves sitting close together, arm in arm, and they stay like that for a long time.

"Cas...?"

Cas looks up to see those pretty green eyes staring at him. They're soft and gentle, although there's still something cautious about the way Dean behaves, like he doesn't want to give Castiel his all just yet. They'll get back to normal, in time, he can feel it in his heart, and then they'll even improve too, they'll make their relationship stronger. They both have a lot of growing to do.

"Yes, Dean?"

Dean looks back down at his notes before he sets them down on his lap. He slides down the couch a little, leaning against Castiel's side and resting his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. Then, he closes his arms over his chest and closes his eyes. He looks peaceful as he takes a deep breath, letting the air out of his lungs slowly, like he's breathing properly for the first time since Monday. Castiel understands that feeling.

For a moment, Cas isn't sure Dean will reply, he looks like he's fallen asleep after a couple of hard days. He puts an arm around his shoulders and holds him close, smiling to himself as he looks back down at his book.

Finally, in a tired voice, Dean whispers, "I really like Wednesdays."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end! Love isn't always easy and at times it can take a lot of work, but sometimes it's worth it.  
> Sorry for the terrible posting schedule this story had. I hope you enjoyed the story anyway and that you'll return for future stories.  
> Feedback is appreciated.  
> Bye for now!


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